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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24336004">Only You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PassionateImaginer/pseuds/PassionateImaginer'>PassionateImaginer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Frozen (Disney Movies), Guardians of Childhood &amp; Related Fandoms, Rise of the Guardians (2012)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Arranged Marriage, F/M, Fluff, Historical setting (Victorian-ish), Mutual Pining, My First Fanfic, Poor attempts at humor, Romance, Slow Burn, Some angst, maybe smut, not historically accurate but i'm trying my best</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:48:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>82,887</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24336004</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PassionateImaginer/pseuds/PassionateImaginer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The crown princess of Arendelle is to be married to the Lord of Burgess in hopes that the unity of their kingdoms will help protect the North from a war that has yet to come. But the thing is... they don't want to. Or do they?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elsa (Disney)/Jack Frost (Guardians of Childhood)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>172</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Wait, <em>what?</em>”</p><p>Elsa could not help but feel her eyes widen and mouth hang agape. The tiny, slender hands folded demurely on her lap came to grip the edges of the armrest, nails scraping wood and knuckles deathly white. Her father rose from his desk, the embellishments that adorned his sleek black jacket tinkling like chimes. He kept his hands folded behind his back as he paced casually to a bookshelf on his left, though she could see that his thumb and forefinger fiddled with the cuffs of his sleeve, a nervous gesture of his. The rest of his composure, however, unnerved her greatly as she was struggling to maintain her own equanimity herself.</p><p>
  <em>You are already of age. You need to wed if you are to inherit the crown.</em>
</p><p>Barely twenty words had been spoken since she had been called to her father’s study, and already her world was reeling and spinning violently out of her control. Those words now echoed within the hollow recesses of her brain, ringing like alarms in her ears. Elsa had been in a good mood after having a sumptuous dinner with her sister—they had chocolate pudding for dessert after all. Upon entering the dimly lit room, her father announcing to her that she was to be married to one of the most powerful lords in the North was the last thing she expected to hear. Granted, it had been always been in the back of her mind. She was a princess, after all. The crown princess of the North. She just did not think that all of this—her betrothal, marriage, and eventual coronation—would happen so <em>soon</em>.</p><p>“Tension from the war with the South is mounting,” the King said, eyes seemingly raking over the spines of the thick tomes on the shelves. Elsa narrowed her eyes at him in scrutiny; she knew that look. Behind the casual facade, she saw the weariness and heard some of it seep into his voice. War had the tendency to age anyone overnight, and the King, however powerful he may be, was no exception. She closed her mouth, looking away from him. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she felt guilty for arguing. When rumors of a war had reached them from the South following the death of the Southern Isles’ monarch, her father had done everything within his power to pacify their people’s fears. He had deployed spies to the South tasked with investigating the late king’s sudden death and observing the newly crowned prince. Aside from that, whispers of a budding rebellion had been reported, adding more to the already heavy burden on her father’s shoulders.</p><p>She snapped harshly at herself, angrily forcing the guilt down. She should at least try to fight for the right to live her own life for goodness’ sake. Deep in internal debate, she was almost unaware that her father was still speaking. “The North needs to be united now more than ever. I do not want our strength questioned by our own people. They need to know that we can protect them, and this union will help us with that.”</p><p>“It’s all too soon,” she heard herself say. Her fingers ached as she tried to relax her grip on the armrest. Taking deep discreet breaths, she looked at him again and found green eyes regarding her with concern. “There must be another way. I do not think that I am ready for this. I need time, father—”</p><p>“There <em>is</em> no more time, child,” he pressed. He moved behind the desk once more, bracing his hands on the surface, one hand curled into a fist. “Marriage to the Lord of Burgess is crucial to our kingdom’s protection. Our kingdoms form the boundary between us and the South. We need all the help we can get for when the war comes—if it does.”</p><p>She gritted her teeth; she hated it when he used that tone on her, the one that made her feel like a clueless child to which he had given his explanation for the nth time. She was no longer a child, she wanted to scream. She may still be a slip of a girl at twenty years, but the breadth and depth of her knowledge was not to be underestimated. Eyes narrowed and cheeks flushed, she rose to her feet, the legs of the heavy chair screeching pitifully against the dark wooden floor. “<em>’If it does’ </em>?” she snapped. Her hands bunched up in fistfuls of her skirts in attempt to keep them at her sides. “You could at least ensure that said war will occur lest your attempt to trade your own daughter’s hand in marriage for the security of the kingdom be all for naught!”</p><p>Her father was silent, a muscle in his jaw firing. She should stop speaking, but the bubbling anger in her chest spurred her on. “Fear of a war that may or may not come has sorely blinded you, father. You could have rallied the House of the Northern Lords, made them swear allegiance to the crown and have them fight by your side. That is what you want, is it not? A united North. What good could this farce of a marriage be to the kingdom?”</p><p>The words were already out of her mouth before she had the chance to stop herself.</p><p>“<em>Are you not King?</em> Surely <em>you</em> can do something—<em>anything!</em> ”</p><p>“I <em>am</em> the King!” he bellowed. His tone rose as his fist descended with a loud bang on his desk, words paced with barely restrained anger. Elsa did not dare flinch; she leveled his gaze with an icy glare of her own. She suppressed the impulse to cast her eyes downward. “I am king as well as your father and you will do as you are commanded!”</p><p>She stared incredulously at him, chest heaving. The air around them was laden with thick silence, which was in stark contrast with the startling crescendo of their argument. The finality from the King’s words filled her with dread. She knew that there was no changing his mind from that point onward. She felt the familiar burn of incoming tears in the back of her throat. Fuming, she spun on her heel, pausing halfway out the door when she at least remembered her manners. She turned to her father, one hand braced tightly on the door knob. “By your leave, <em>Your Grace</em>,” she said, her voice hollow. The King waved a hand in dismissal and she gave a stiff curtsy, slamming the door as hard as she can when she left.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <strong> XXX </strong>
  </p>
</div><p>Elsa stood at the docks a week later, a result of having received the much-awaited correspondence from the Lord of Burgess two days prior. She was to travel there to meet him in person, at the insistence of her father. Why it could not be the other way around, having her betrothed to be the one to come to her, she did not care enough to ask. Quite honestly, she did not care for much at all. She had seethed in silent resignation while discussions of her betrothal had filled most of the previous dinner conversations. She had tried her best to focus on her food in attempts to ignore the pitiful glances from Anna as her father talked on. For her benefit, they would be allowed to court and “get to know each other”, as he so nonchalantly added, for a year until she was to be crowned queen of Arendelle.</p><p><em>As if that made things any better</em>, she had thought bitterly. Nevertheless, she entertained herself with the silver lining that, should the war not push through within the year of their courting, she would not need to marry for her kingdom. Then, she could take her time, and possibly even marry for love. Elsa had relished the thought, which surprised her; she was known for her strong opinions against love and romance. Between the sisters, Elsa was more realistic, while Anna indulged herself with romantic fantasies and fairy tales where gallant knights and handsome princes swept damsels in distress off their feet. She had cast the thought aside, cringing inwardly at herself.</p><p>The King and Queen were to accompany her at least until she could settle there, after which they would head back to Arendelle. The King was giving out a few last instructions to the royal staff before they left, the early morning sun glinting off the shiny things in his usual ensemble. Her mother pulled Anna into a tight embrace, whispering which Elsa heard to be apologies in her sister’s ear. When the youngest of the royal family heard that she was not going with them to Burgess, she had thrown a childish fit which only served to prove her parents’ point further. But Elsa could understand her sister’s disappointment. It would be the first time she traveled outside of the kingdom, let alone the palace walls. Her father had strictly kept the both of them within the gates of the castle since they were young, never allowed to roam their kingdom freely except on days of festivities—freely meaning surrounded by their personal guards and only within the confines of their courtyard.</p><p>“Do try to enjoy your lessons with Gerda, sis,” she said with a warm smile as Anna pulled away from their mother. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes, and she snorted loudly from a runny nose with abandon. This earned an exasperated sigh from the Queen behind her. Elsa did not mind. “She tries very hard, you know.”</p><p>She had barely opened her arms before Anna crashed into them, gracing her with one of her spine-cracking hugs. She grunted at the impact but returned the gesture nevertheless. “Write to me when you get there,” Anna wailed, causing her to chuckle softly. Anna had always been more open with her emotions than her—and more unashamedly at that.</p><p>Her father lightly tapped Anna on the shoulder, and with one last family embrace and a lot of wishes of safe travel, the three boarded the ship. The Arendellian general, Mattias, stood at attention as they embarked. “Your Grace,” he greeted them, offering her a hand after her mother stepped into the ship. Mattias looked as jaded as her father did; wrinkles mapped the surface of his chocolate brown skin, streaks of white peppered his short-cropped curly hair. Since the mountain roads were rumored to be crawling with bandits of the rebellion, the only way out of the kingdom was through the sea. While she was downtrodden at her current plight, Elsa could not help but feel a small bubble of excitement bloom within her chest. She had never traveled by sea before; then again, she had never traveled at all. Her knees wobbled as the waves lapped up against the ship’s hull. She suddenly regretted forcing down that big breakfast she had earlier. She had a feeling that she was not going to appreciate that within the first hour of their journey.</p><p>As the crew hoisted the anchor and untied the ship, the wind caught the pearly white sails and gently propelled the ship forward, and finally out of the fjord. All the while Elsa stood at the back of the ship, flyaway strands of pale blonde hair flitting wildly about her face, watching and waving back shyly until Anna was nothing but a faint green blob in the distance.</p><p>The scuffling of the crew behind her faded into the background the farther they got away from Arendelle. The sea was relatively calm and oh, <em>so blue</em>, she thought. The water glinted like sapphires in the sunlight. The waves splashed against the wood of the ship in an almost meditative rhythm, the sails overhead casting adequate shade from the rising sun. She was alone at the back of the ship, deeply inhaling the sea breeze and feeling the light sea spray on her skin. How incredibly freeing, she thought, and yet she herself was not free.</p><p>Elsa stared blankly at the white froth bubbling in their ship’s wake, hands lightly placed on the smooth wooden railing for support. She overheard the captain announce earlier that with this speed, it would take them a week or so to reach Burgess. A week or so and she would meet her betrothed.</p><p>The calming sounds of the waves were suddenly too overwhelming, the water too bright and the heat from the sun unbearable.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>READ FIRST!</p><p>I've decided to call the Guardians by their William Joyce names (as you shall soon read) because they give the story a bit more formal setting. It was either that or I would have to refer to Bunny as Lord Bunny... which is weird (sorry not sorry).</p><p>For a more defined differentiation between North the land and North the man, I've elected to referring to North the man as "St. North".</p><p>Enjoy reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It took all of Jack’s willpower not to bounce on the balls of his feet out of sheer anxiety as they stood at the front steps of their humble keep. A small part of him prayed that the crown princess would take one look at the drab, dark red bricks and run back to the grandeur of her own castle. Or that she would find herself utterly discomfited in the presence of his court; they do make a rather curious lot. Burgess was his, but more often, his adoptive family sought to facilitate the land’s operations. St. North supervised everything in the realm of workmanship while Bunnymund oversaw the development of Burgess’ economic goods, particularly the perishables. Toothiana took to being head of their household, as well as being his private secretary. In truth, however, the three of them took it upon themselves to groom him for his position. He was still young, a child at eighteen years of age. He knew that he still had a lot to learn. Had there been more time before his unexpected betrothal, he would have certainly learned how to run his land properly. He would have made a proper lord.</p><p>A letter from the King of Arendelle had arrived a little over a week ago when he was hunting for game in the forest nearby. Jack had come home late that afternoon, breeches covered in smears of dirt and grime and earth, exhausted but content with the hefty sack of game he had brought with him. He had been called to Nicholas St. North’s study upon arriving—a common occurrence, since he so often instigated various forms of mischief, which was why he had thought nothing of the summons. That was, until he had received the most devastating news of his life.</p><p>He, Jackson Overland Frost, found himself betrothed to the crown princess of Arendelle and future Queen of the North that very same day.</p><p>Beside him, Bunnymund checked his time piece through his peculiarly egg-shaped spectacles and shoved it back into the pocket of his deep emerald waistcoat, his foot tapping impatiently as he did. Toothiana, with her iridescent skirts and bright eyes the rare shade of fuchsia, approached Jack and brushed at imaginary specks of dirt on the shoulders of his navy blue frock coat, the tip of the golden feather adorning her elegant chignon tickling the tip of Bunnymund’s nose. “Stop fidgeting, dear,” she said to him sweetly, although she herself was a ball of barely controlled excitement. He managed a small smile and exhaled slowly. He wished he shared the small countess’ sentiments.</p><p>Just as Nicholas St. North emerged from the large, wooden double doors all dressed in deep red and intimidating dark fur, trumpets in the distance announced Jack’s doom. He groaned inwardly, yet he could not help but feel his heart hammer wildly against his chest.</p><p>A carriage came into view, pulled by two muscular grays and flanked by several guards on horseback. The Arendellan flag shone bright emerald and royal purple in the meek afternoon sun, accented with golden threads that formed the crest in the center. Leading the entourage was General Mattias, his forehead creased in attention, dark eyes scanning the surroundings with intent. The carriage came to a halt in front of them, and the footmen hastily prepared for the occupants’ disembarkation. Jack felt an unfamiliar chill at the back of his neck as the dying winds of autumn blew past; he realized that he was sweating.</p><p>“My lords and lady, King Agnarr and Queen Iduna Oldenburg of Arendelle.” One of the footmen opened the door and out came the King, straightening the tangled ends of his aiguillette and his black, excellently tailored military jacket. After the soles of his fine leather boots hit the ground, he offered a hand to the Queen to assist her, lifting the soft lavender train of her gown for her as she stepped down from the carriage. Jack and the rest of his court got down to a knee, heads reverently bowed. “The crown princess, Elsa Oldenburg,” the royal announcer said.</p><p>Jack felt his ears redden and pulse quicken with anticipation as he heard a soft thud on the ground and a rustle of skirts, but he dared not lift his head. “Arise, my lords and lady,” King Agnarr said. He was a tall man—still a head or two shorter than St. North, his ramrod straight posture did little to hide his weariness. There were dark circles under his eyes, from sleepless nights or the long travel, Jack could not discern. His eyes wandered from King Agnarr to the women on his right, finally landing on his betrothed. While his strawberry blonde hair complemented his wife’s warm chocolate brown, it was in stark contrast to his daughter’s fierce platinum blonde, which was swept meticulously in a low braided bun with wayward strands framing her delicate face. She stood rigidly with her hands clasped in front of her skirts. She wore a dress similar to that of her mother’s but without the train and in a richer shade of blue violet, the stiff collar concealing most of her neck and the sleeves reaching up to her wrists. Her eyes, a brilliant blue that rivaled his own, regarded them with utter detachment, her pale features impassive. </p><p>St. North cleared his throat, giving a slight nod to Jack in a way that said, <em>‘Speak up, you bloody fool.’</em></p><p>Jack forced the lump in his throat down with a barely discreet swallow. “Burgess is yours, my King.” His voice still sounded rough around the edges, but he managed to add, “No doubt the ride all the way here has exhausted all of you. If you would please follow Lord Nicholas St. North inside. Luncheon has been prepared in the Great Hall.” </p><p>“This way, Your Grace,” St. North said as the doors to their keep opened. King Agnarr gave Jack a gracious smile and clapped him on the back as he passed. The princess extended a slender hand, which was wrapped in a white silk glove, to him. He bowed stiffly and brushed his lips on the peaks of her knuckles then, without letting go of her hand, placed it on the crook of his elbow as Toothiana had instructed.</p><p>Their keep opened to a spacious foyer with a small dome of glass above their heads that provided ample lighting, its gold-tinted ironwork gleaming even in the meek afternoon sun. On either side were elegantly curved staircases made of dark wood that lead up to the upper floors, intricate geometric shapes carved into the wood of the banisters. Both the King and Queen craned their necks to behold the domed skylight above, and St. North’s gruff voice echoed loudly as he proudly described how he designed the dome himself. While the Queen graciously complimented St. North on his work, Jack saw out of the corner of his eye that Elsa kept her graze strictly forward.  </p><p>They made the rest of the walk to the Great Hall in silence. He saw the clouds roll in through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows on his right, which further obscured the sun and threw the halls into a grayish haze in the absence of the light from the torches on the walls. Elsa was silent, her chin up but her gaze trained on the floor. Should he say something? He struggled to form words in attempt to stir a conversation; the atmosphere slowly became more suffocating by the second, save for the only chatter echoing off the walls coming from Toothiana and Queen Iduna, who were a few steps ahead of them. </p><p>There was a warm orange glow at the end of the hall; Jack breathed a sigh of relief. the Great Hall’s chandeliers were at least lit, casting welcoming light over the dark wooden table laden with food. He felt some of the tension in the air lift. He moved to the table eagerly, almost forgetting that Elsa’s hand was still on his arm. He watched as St. North took his seat across from the head of the table, which was occupied by the King. Jack moved to King Agnarr’s left, pulling Elsa’s chair out for her before planting himself in the one across hers. “Please, Your Grace,” St. North said, “Do help yourselves, the cooks have prepared some of our signature dishes...”</p><p>And with that, they ate in an albeit awkward silence. The only talk that filled the table was about their guests’ journey from Arendelle, and the latest news about the threats of war from the South as well as rumors of a rebellion that have yet to reach Jack’s attention. “The Northern Lords are getting restless,” the King replied to Bunnymund. “The Southern prince is young, foolish and irrational, but also smart and cunning. My spies in the South confirmed that he is being advised by one of the best generals in the land. As such, we must all be prepared.”</p><p>Admittedly, the flow of the conversation did not pique Jack’s interest in the slightest. Instead, he toyed with his meat, forcing every bite of food down with a discreet gulp of wine. The bread tasted like cotton in his mouth the longer he tried to eat. Was it his nerves? He remembered being hungry before the royal family had arrived. All this talk of war and how his marriage to the crown princess could somehow help strengthen their forces sounded completely <em>wrong</em> in his ears, made his stomach churn and his head ache around the temples. Meals taken at this table were usually fun and lighthearted; now, the bleak air seemed to crush his spirits. He noted that Elsa was also barely touching the food on her plate, and that Queen Iduna’s brows were furrowed, pale blue eyes bright with concern. </p><p>When the servants came in to replace the main courses with dessert, Toothiana suggested that Jack give Elsa a tour of their keep after they finish eating. “You can show her the grounds. I dare say that the trees do look absolutely beautiful in autumn colors—”</p><p>“Forgive me, my lords, my lady,” Elsa began, her soft voice edged with exhaustion but still with a note of authority. Every head turned to her; it was the first time she spoke since arriving. “I am not feeling well enough for such an excursion. I am unfortunately not used to traveling this long. I would really prefer to be well-rested to fully appreciate your land’s beauty. If I may, I would like to retire to my chambers for the day.” Jack casted a quick glance at the King; his jaw was set, but the hardness did not reach his eyes. There was almost… a <em>sadness</em> in those pools of green. Toothiana gave her a contrite smile and muttered a quick apology. “Jack will show you to your quarters, Your Grace,” she said.</p><p>At her cue, Jack stood up noisily. He could almost see Bunnymund press his forehead to his palm in his peripheral vision as he strode to Elsa’s side. She followed suite, but with decidedly more grace. She gave a perfunctory curtsy after excusing herself from the table, hand lightly closed on Jack’s proffered elbow. As he led her out of the hall, he observed that she was trying to maintain a reasonable pace. The second that they were far enough away from the Great Hall, however, he heard her exhale a breath and ultimately, let go of his elbow.</p><p>He raised an eyebrow at her; she looked back at him, blue eyes wide with embarrassment. He could not help but chuckle as a faint a blush crept in her pale cheeks. “So the feeling is mutual, eh?” he joked. Jack gestured for them to keep walking, keeping his hands lightly clasped behind his back. He knew that he should offer her his elbow lest he be chided by Toothiana for disregarding his manners, but something told him that Elsa did not want it. In turn, Elsa rewarded him with a gratitious smile. “So it seems,” she agreed. Jack’s heart leapt with anticipation at their current understanding.</p><p>They walked together in silence, an arm’s length apart. Elsa kept her head down, though her shoulders were more relaxed than they had been since she had arrived. Behind his back, Jack’s fingers twitched for something to do.</p><p>He cleared his throat. They were almost to her chambers now, just up the stairs and to the left. </p><p>“So,” he began, their footsteps echoing softly as they padded up the wooden staircase. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue, “what are we going to do about that?”</p><p>Elsa paused just then; they had reached the top of the stairs. “I beg your pardon?”</p><p>“You don’t want to get married to me and, meaning no offense, I also don’t want to get married to you. Neither of us want this, but we can do something about it—to break the engagement off,” he explained. The hope that had bloomed in his heart mere moments ago had found its way into his voice, and he felt the familiar excitement course through his veins at the thought of breaking one more rule. </p><p>Whatever hope he had that Elsa would help him put a stop to their arranged marriage dissapated when the crown princess narrowed her eyes at him as if he had insulted her. “Do not get me wrong, my lord: I do not wish to marry you, nor anyone else, especially under these circumstances.” When she spoke, her voice was unbelievably both calm and firm—threatening almost. “But I will do so, if only for the benefit of the kingdom and the safety of my people. This is where our mutual understanding is at its end. Let me make it perfectly clear that should you do <em>anything</em> to jeopardize this union, you will answer directly to <em>me</em>.”</p><p>He felt his mouth hang open in surprise. Elsa was a tall woman, just an inch or two shorter than him, and yet he felt as though <em>she</em> was the one staring down at <em>him</em>. He felt his face contort into a frown as his newfound hope melted away to something akin to the beginnings of a storm in his chest. His brows furrowed in defiance. “Was that a threat, <em>princess?</em> ” he sneered. “You do not know me, but around here, I am the master of mischief. I can make you scream for the hills back into your humble little home. You wouldn’t last a week—I will make sure of it.”</p><p>Jack showed her to her room, which was just at the end of the hall. She opened the heavy, wooden door, and turned to him, blue eyes the color of ice. “I’d like to see you try, <em>my lord.</em> ” Her calm voice did not quaver. With one last, piercing glare, she slammed the door at his face.</p><p>The emergence of a hundred different ploys made the cogs of his brain turn furiously, propelling his feet forward—but not back to the Great Hall. No, he thought. The sooner he could get to work, the sooner he could get her to leave.</p><p>The sooner he would be free.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: I found Elsa and Anna's possible last name through this reddit post (https://www.reddit.com/r/Frozen/comments/27o972/i_have_the_official_canon_last_names_for_elsa/) and it seemed fitting for me so yes</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elsa awoke to a gentle caress on her cheek. After her standoff with the Burgess Lord, she had kicked off her shoes indignantly, ripped the pins out of her hair and collapsed face-first on her four-poster bed, falling quickly asleep despite being fully clothed.</p><p>She sat up with a yawn, blinking the grogginess away, her tangled blonde hair spilling over her shoulder. Her mother was perched on the edge of her bed. The gas lamp on the side table nearest to them emphasized the shadows on her thin, youthful face. Her eyes, ever loving and welcoming despite their cold pale shade, regarded her with mild amusement. “You’ve slept through dinner, my dear. I’ve taken the liberty of bringing the food to you.”</p><p>“Thank you, <em>mama</em>,” she whispered. Her mother moved to enhance the brightness of the lamp as Elsa pushed herself up against the headboard. She had not bothered to notice the décor of her room until now. In the dim light, she could make out geometric patterns engraved on the posts of her bed, similar to those on the stairs. It seemed to be a running motif here, Elsa observed. There was a beautiful vanity pushed against the wall on her left, its rectangular mirror framed with an ornate wooden design. No doubt her things have already been brought up before she decided to crash, but it was only now that she noticed the silhouette of several irregularly sized trunks piled neatly by the large, brooding armoire on her right. The thick, creamy curtains were pulled back, allowing slivers of moonlight to shine through the tall, rectangular windows. Near the foot of her bed was a dainty chaise lounge, which her mother now occupied after setting her bed tray in front of her. Elsa did not realize that she was starving until she heard her stomach growl viciously at the smell of well-done venison; ravenous as she was, she did not miss the look of relief that graced her mother’s features as she scarfed down her food.</p><p>Elsa also did not miss that her mother had courteously chosen to remain quiet for the duration of her meal, even though she could sense that there was more to her visit than her apparent motherly concern. Regardless, she was grateful for her mother’s presence. She had gotten overwhelmingly despondent since they had arrived, so much so that she had retreated deep within herself the second she stepped off the ship. It was as if her soul had left her body, and she was forced to watch herself move against her will, helplessly trapped like a puppet with strings.</p><p>
  <em>Be the good girl you always have to be.</em>
</p><p>It was rather a destructive habit of hers, one that developed from the earlier parts of her childhood when her father first locked the gates. <em>Conceal it, don’t feel it, don’t let it show, </em>he would say, always when she was on the verge of bursting into tears from the immense self-loathing she had harbored since <em>that </em>day. Her father’s words would subconsciously become her mantra growing up, and as if it were some primal instinct ingrained into her being, she would lock herself away from her family in times of emotional distress.</p><p>But that was a long time ago. Things have since been on the mend, especially her relationship with her family. Admittedly, it was more difficult for Elsa when she was decidedly still trying to bring down old defenses.</p><p>It was only after she finished her glass of water when her mother finally spoke. “We will be leaving earlier than planned, my love,” she began. Worry was thick in her voice and evident in her posture as she rose from the chaise lounge to stare out the window, long and thin fingers fiddling with the fraying ends of the scarf she wore around her shoulders. “We received a note from Arendelle this afternoon. The Southern prince has deployed a small troop at the border. Your father and I grow restless, especially since Anna is alone. We depart for Arendelle in three days’ time, after your engagement ball.”</p><p>Anna. Elsa had forgotten to write to her. Her stomach knotted at the thought of her sister with her forehead creased in worry, pacing alone in their shared bedroom. Though Mattias had accompanied them to Burgess, he was sure to leave some of his best soldiers to protect Anna and defend the kingdom in his absence. She knew that the Southerners would not dare to cross the border, but the news still sent fear coursing down the length of her spine. The border was nothing but a clearing, a wide stretch of plain, and past that, it would take only a week to reach Arendelle on horseback—even less if the invading parties were determined.</p><p>She nodded slightly in understanding, but she did ask, “My engagement ball?”</p><p>“Yes, dear. I know how you must feel in all of this, but I am afraid that it <em>is</em> tradition,” she replied, turning to her. “The Lady Toothiana has already started to plan for the event, and she expressed earlier that she would very much like your input in this regard, as well as Lord Jack’s.”</p><p>“And I suppose the task falls on me to actually <em>speak </em>to him about it?” she scoffed.</p><p>“I see that you have yet to warm up to the young lord,” her mother noted, her tone lighter. “I daresay that he is <em>quite</em> the charmer.”</p><p><em>"Mama!" </em>she exclaimed, making a disgusted sound in her throat and cringing visibly. Her mother laughed softly; though faint lines appeared at the corners of her eyes as she did, she looked younger by ten years. She sat next to her on the bed, one of her hands giving hers a gentle squeeze while the other patted her cheek affectionately. “Give him a chance, Elsa.”</p><p>Her brows furrowed in slightly mocked irritation. “I can’t marry someone I just met, <em>mama.</em>”</p><p>“Ah, but you aren’t getting married right away now, are you? It’s an engagement ball, not a wedding.” Elsa rolled her eyes at her mother, huffing out a breath exaggeratedly for effect. <em>It’s condemning either way, </em>she thought testily, but instead of voicing her thoughts, she forced her mouth to curve in a tight smile.</p><p>Her mother only chuckled. Placing her empty bed tray on the floor, she rose and gave Elsa a kiss good night on the forehead, then promptly left her room.</p><p>Elsa breathed in deeply and out slowly. If her mother had meant for those words of advice to be comforting, then she was gravely mistaken. Their conversation had been light, but she still wanted to scream that no, she will not give him <em>any</em> chance whatsoever—especially not after he had solemnly vowed to get rid of her before the week’s end. If it was animosity he wanted, then she would give him just that. She did not know Lord Frost, but he also did not know her. He had called himself <em>master of mischief</em>. Well, in that case, then Elsa was nothing if not mistress of countenance.</p><p>She extracted herself from bed, walking barefooted to her neatly stacked trunks to rummage for her nightclothes and slippers, and few bathroom necessities. She made a mental note to start sorting her things tomorrow morning. With her luck, she would be finished with enough time to help Lady Toothiana plan the ball. Two days to organize such an event was a feat in and of itself; forcing herself to cooperate with Lord Frost was another.</p><p><em>Her </em>engagement ball. Elsa found the idea ludicrous; she didn’t even have parties thrown for her birthday. How on earth was she going to plan a ball?</p><p>After finally procuring a white, lacy nightgown and her favorite magenta silk wrapper, she opened the door next to the armoire, which led to her own bathroom. It was a spacious room, with a massive porcelain clawfoot tub in the center. She only meant to change, but she briefly considered taking a quick dip. If the hot water came from a reservoir heated by the stoves in the kitchens like it did in Arendelle, then there should still be warm water left over from the meal preparation for dinner. She moved to fill the tub, running her fingers through the steady stream of water, which, as she suspected, was still surprisingly warm. She put her folded clothes on a small cushioned stool before heading over to the mirror. She brushed her hair a tad more aggressively than usual to get rid of all the knots before tying it up in a bun above her head. When the tub was a little over half-full, she closed the tap and started to undress.</p><p>She did not stay in the water for too long, although she was sorely tempted to. She lathered the washcloth with one of her favorite lavender soaps and scrubbed her body until her pale skin was tinged pink. After washing away the soap, Elsa finally gave in and let her hair down, submerging herself fully beneath the water to wet her hair then massaging her scalp to relieve some of the ache in her temples. She grabbed the towel that was draped over a paneled changing screen behind the tub and patted herself dry with it, wringing her hair out completely before slipping into her night clothes. She belted the sash of her wrapper and left her bathroom, already more relaxed and slightly even drowsy. She walked past her bed, however, and sat down in front of the vanity. A couple of drawers later, she had unearthed a fountain pain, a bottle of ink and a few sheets of paper. She tossed her drying hair over to one shoulder and began to write.</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Wish you were here, sis.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Love always, Elsa.</em>
</p><p>She signed her name with her usual loopy flourish and folded all three pages of her letter into thirds, slipping it into an envelope she had found in one of the drawers of her vanity. She could not, however, find sealing wax, so she would have to ask for some in the morning before she could have her letter sent. A grandfather clock somewhere in the castle chimed two o’clock in the morning; Elsa cursed at herself. It was well past her bedtime, and considering how long she had slept throughout the day, it would be early dawn by the time sleep finds her again.</p><p>When she was younger and had difficulty falling asleep, she would quietly get out of bed and help herself to a warm glass of milk down in the kitchens. This continued for a while, until Gerda had caught her wandering the palace halls with a belly full of milk. Every night after that, a glass was brought up to her room before bedtime. She still had her milk before going to bed, if only out of sheer force of habit—she certainly did <em>not </em>crave that creamy liquid, especially <em>not</em> now.</p><p>She put the letter on the side table and, after quickly gathering her now dry hair into a simple braid, silently left her room, the carpeted floor muffling the sound of her footsteps. Surely, they had milk here, right?</p><p>The halls were empty and dark, save for the moonlight spilling from the tall windows. The last of autumn’s winds howled past, turning the skin on her arms to gooseflesh at the eerie sound. Descending the wooden stairs quietly was difficult; without the carpet, she had to walk slowly to minimize the noise her mules made on the polished wood. When at last she reached the bottom stair, she made her way to the Great Hall. Elsa knew that kitchens were usually a separate part of the keep, connected to the Great Hall by passageways for the servants to bring food in and out. By manner of deduction, Elsa found said passageway, feeling quite pleased with herself as she padded down the corridor.</p><p>When she got to the kitchen, she began searching the cupboards and pantries for a glass, and more importantly, for the milk. Elsa wished that she had thought to bring a taper with her; there was hardly any light in the kitchen, and she prayed that the clouds would not shroud the moon long enough for her to find what she was looking for.</p><p>She was just about to check the lower cabinets when she heard a squeal from behind her and a rapid string of words in a language that she did not understand. Elsa straightened immediately and turned around. A servant girl held a small lamp with a trembling hand, her other hand splayed across her heaving chest. Her apron was missing, as well as the cap from her head, revealing a messy cascade of auburn waves. Her face was flushed, her thin lips seemingly swollen. In the meager lamp light, they almost looked bruised. Elsa remembered overhearing some of the younger servants back in Arendelle gossiping of their… <em>other </em>services outside of the palace, and though she was not quick to judge the girl’s whereabouts, she could not help but feel appalled at the thought.</p><p>Elsa cleared her throat to break the awkward silence that stretched between them. The girl’s startled gray eyes widened further in embarrassment. “Your Highness! Please, forgive me! I was - I - I was just -” the poor girl stuttered. She was frantically trying to form a coherent sentence, and the harder she tried, the more her cheeks reddened until they were almost the same color as her hair. Elsa stomached her discomfort.</p><p>It must have still been readable on her face, for the girl’s rambling died off to a quiet whisper and she bowed her head in shame. When she spoke again, her voice came out small. “Do you need anything, Your Highness?</p><p>“As it happens, I do,” Elsa answered. “Your arrival is quite fortuitous—I came here to fetch a glass of milk, but alas, I don’t know where it is.”</p><p>Having been tasked with something to do somehow made the girl sigh in relief. “Ah, milk. Yes. One moment.” She set the lamp on the center table and quickly fetched a jug from the back of the room. She also managed to acquire a glass, which she set on the table. She poured the milk from the jug and offered it to Elsa. “Thank you…” she said, a questioning tilt of her head prompting the girl to finish her sentence.</p><p>“Katherine, Your Highness” she replied, bobbing a small curtsy and giving her an abashed smile.</p><p>Elsa’s lips upturned slightly before she dismissed her with a polite nod, bringing the glass to her lips as the girl, Katherine, moved to exit the kitchen. She was just about to close the door when Elsa called for her again.</p><p>“Yes, Your Highness?”</p><p>“Might I ask where you are from? I can’t seem to place your accent, nor your language,” she said, surprising herself. She rarely spoke to servants, let alone inquire about their personal lives. Perhaps the milk had loosened her tongue.</p><p>Katherine paid it no mind and answered, smiling, “Santoff Claussen, milady. It’s a village not far from here, about a day or two’s ride I would say.” Elsa nodded in acknowledgement and with a final cursty, Katherine shut the kitchen door closed the kitchen door, leaving her alone to drain the last few drops of her milk. Such a jittery young girl, she thought. Belly full and eyelids droopy, Elsa dragged herself back up to her room and buried herself under the covers.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was a gentle knock on the door, and an older woman’s voice rousing her awake. Elsa grumbled and stretched, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear as she propped herself up with one arm. “Come in!” she called, and the door opened. The stout maid gave her a polite nod through the door before entering, arms full of freshly cleaned and pressed linen. She placed these on the chaise lounge and moved to open the curtains just as Elsa was about to get up from bed. She slipped on her mules and squealed loudly.</p><p>Unable to contain her revulsion, her high-pitched squeak had alerted the maid, who was by her side at once. Her skin crawled as she wriggled her toes. They were enveloped in something extremely gooey and sticky, with semi-solid chunks pressing against her sensitive soles and forcing themselves through the gaps between her toes. She quickly kicked off the shoes and saw viscous brown paste oozing out of them.</p><p>The old maid’s eyebrows disappeared beneath her hairline in distress. “Oh, my dear! Let’s get that taken care of and cleaned up, alright?” she cooed, running as fast as her legs can carry her to fetch a damp towel from her bathroom to wipe her feet with. She lifted her feet for the maid to clean, hearing her mutter under her breath, “That <em>scoundrel!</em> She is the <em>crown princess</em>, for goodness’ sake! When will he ever learn? Oh, curse that mischievous little teenage hellion and all his wicked tricks!”</p><p>Elsa stared at her; she had to purse her lips tightly to prevent herself from bursting into a fit of maniacal laughter. <em>This</em> was the great master of mischief’s plan? To scare her away with silly little pranks and heedless tricks? She not help but imagine Jackson Overland Frost the size of an elf with an impish grin on his pointed face, planning away and drawing up such <em>evil</em> plans in a little journal under lamplight, thinking so highly of himself and his perceived <em>genius</em>. In truth, Elsa hadn’t thought much about what he planned to do with her, but stuffing her shoes with bean paste had been the last thing on her mind. Did he think her to be so absurdly shallow and petty? What an incredibly huge miscalculation on his part!</p><p>The maid looked up as if she just remembered whose feet she was washing, then began apologizing profusely for the irreverent words she had spoken against her master. Elsa silenced her with a gesture. “You are quite certain that Lord Frost did this?”</p><p>“There is no one else who would have the nerve to <em>dare</em>, Your Highness,” she assured her. “He is a clever boy, but that cleverness is more often exercised in wreaking havoc in the castle than in his lordly duties! In fact, he managed to drive away one too many servants in his youth by—”</p><p>“And where might I find the young lord at this hour?” She tried to sound as innocently as possible so as not to give away the equally wicked plan that was slowly taking form in her mind. Elsa had never been one for retribution, but vindictive as she was, especially about her character, she supposed that a little tit for tat was in order.</p><p>The old maid blinked at her. “I was given strict orders by the King to rouse you earlier than the others, madam, to help you dress before breakfast at half past six. Lord Frost might still be very well asleep in his chambers.”</p><p>“Where?”</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Damn that wretched clock!</em>
</p><p>Jack groaned, turning to his belly with a pillow pressed against the side of his head to drown out the infernal chimes of the grandfather clock that St. North insisted be displayed by the stairs. Its position relative to their private chambers and guest rooms made it impossible for anyone to escape its resounding tolls; it also did not help that the walls surrounding the stairs made the sound reverberate <em>even more</em>.</p><p>At the last chime, there was a moment of silence before Jack sat bolt upright in horrifying realization and was out of bed in an instant, bedclothes thrown off with enough force to send them flying across the room. It was already half past seven, and breakfast usually ended at eight o’clock—<em>sharp</em>. With the royal family as guests, it was all the more embarrassing for the master of the house to be the last to join the breakfast table. “Tooth is going to <em>murder</em> me,” he cursed, pouring cold water from the ewer on the washstand and splashing his face with abandon. He was a ridiculous flurry of motion once the water had washed out the last of his sleepiness; one hand combed through his hair while another hastened to put his trousers on, a feat which proved to be more difficult than he had initially thought. Within five minutes, he was fully dressed in a light gray vest and matching trousers, his powder blue silk cravat slung loosely around his neck. He dug for his pomade and hair powder from one of the drawers of his side table and quickly styled his hair, not bothering to look for a mirror as he did—he had done it enough times already to know how to make his hair swoop down and up at the front, and, with how much time he had left, he could only hope that he used just enough product to tame his tousled bed hair.</p><p>He was just about to reach for his coat when he noticed black smears all over his hands. He froze, turning his palms up and inspecting them from every angle. His brow furrowed in confusion. Was that… <em>soot?</em> What had he touched that could have accounted for it? He went over his quick morning routine, though he did not remember much about the bustle. Had it come from his shoes? He turned towards the washbasin to rinse his hands when more black smudges caught his eye. Traces of coarse, black powder were scattered all over the surface of the side table. His eyes went wide, heart sinking all the way to the carpeted floor. “No,” he choked, “no, no, no, no, <em>no…</em>”</p><p>In five long strides, he was in his bathroom, standing stock-still in front of the mirror. He knew now where the black smudges came from.</p><p>It was the hair powder.</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>“Good afternoon, my lord,” Elsa greeted cheerfully. “We were beginning to worry after you missed breakfast. Come, join us.”</p><p>It was lunch by the time Jack had given up on his hair. He had lathered and rinsed it not once but <em>thrice, </em>and it still wasn’t enough to wash the remaining gray tinge out of his white locks. It would have been better if the unflattering ashen hue were evenly distributed throughout his head. In his haste to prepare for breakfast earlier, Jack had recklessly applied the hair products, both pomade and powder, in various amounts and in different parts of his hair. In effect, his usually pristine hair was now patched with darker splotches of gray, especially where the soot had mixed with the pomade.</p><p>He grumpily took the seat opposite Elsa, using all of his willpower to ignore the several heads that turned in his direction and the pairs of eyes that wandered up to his ashen locks. Elsa glanced up once and discreetly chuckled under the guise of a cough and a well-placed napkin. He glared at her and picked his broiled fish apart with a fury.</p><p>“Rolling in the soot with the greyhounds, are we?” asked Bunnymund, who was sitting next to him. His bright green eyes were twinkling with amusement, the corner of his lip slightly upturned in a smirk.</p><p>“Oh, shut up, <em>Bunny</em>,” he hissed. The older man just huffed a deep chuckle.</p><p>“Lady Toothiana,” Elsa began, and the cluttering of silverware briefly died down, “might we have a tour of the castle after lunch? I’d like to be fairly acquainted with the place before the engagement ball tomorrow evening.”</p><p>If Jack weren’t so furious with her, he would have thanked her—Toothiana was <em>at last</em> distracted from gawking openly at his hair, her resulting smile bright and excited. “Of course, Your Highness. Lord Nicholas and Jack would be happy to oblige you.”</p><p>Toothiana announced that she will join them for an afternoon stroll in the gardens after the tour, once she had finished her preliminary preparations for the ball. The plates were taken away, and Jack found himself on the second-floor library with the royal family half an hour later, listening to St. North’s gruff, rich voice talking animatedly about Tsar Lunar’s private collection. Elsa stood beside Jack, dressed in a rich peacock blue dress with an elaborate lacy shawl draped across her shoulders. He did not bother offering her his arm this time, so her slender hands remained clasped in front of her skirts.</p><p>“You missed a spot,” she noted, touching the space behind her ear. He startled; her voice was low enough for only him to hear, which shocked him out of his bored stupor nonetheless. He pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and vigorously rubbed the skin just below his hair where, sure enough, the cloth came away smudged gray. He exhaled loudly through his nose and clenched his jaw to stifle a growl that emanated deep within his chest.</p><p>St. North heard him and cast him a sideways glance, still talking about Tsar Lunar’s fascination with astrology. Jack did his best to look like he was actually paying attention until the older man looked away.</p><p>“I must admit that I was quite impressed,” he whispered dryly. “A brilliant prank, from none other than the crown princess herself. Honestly, I doubted that you had it in you to retaliate the way you did.”</p><p>“You flatter me, my lord,” she deadpanned. “However, to say the same about your stunt against me would be counted as lying.” They were about to descend the stairs now, and he offered her a perfunctory hand in assistance. Elsa likewise placed her gloved hand in his while the other brushed at the railing as they made their way down to the drawing room.</p><p>He feigned a shockingly upset look. “And why, might I ask, do I not merit the same praise?” he probed.</p><p>Elsa looked at him, brow raised incredulously. “Two words,” she whispered, leaning towards him for effect and using her hand to cover her mouth from prying eyes. He decided to play along and lent her his ear.</p><p>
  <em>“Bean paste.”</em>
</p><p>When she straightened, she coolly stared him down the bridge of her nose. “You’d think that a <em>master of mischief</em> such as yourself would conceive a more intricate plan, one worthy of say, making a princess <em>scream for the hills</em>,” she quoted his words with a smirk, following the King and Queen into the drawing room, where the more prized possessions of Tsar Lunar were displayed. These included marble busts of his parents, which stood on either side of the blazing fireplace, and one of the finest pianofortes of his time, its beautifully polished redwood sprinkled with gold reflects. The pianoforte seemed to spark the crown princess’ interest, her blue eyes raking over the intricately carved design almost reverently.</p><p>“Ah, but I was just warming up,” he said with a light tone, hands gesturing with a flourish for effect. Then his voice lowered to a hiss, “I have the whole week, remember? Expect the <em>worst</em> by then.”</p><p>Elsa’s smirk widened to a full, irritating grin, a knowing twinkle in her round blue eyes. He squared his shoulders, his fists instinctively clenching at his sides; he wanted to wipe that smug look from her face so badly. “Haven’t you heard?” she queried, a casual lilt in her tone which he did not like any more than he enjoyed her smugness.</p><p>“Heard what?”</p><p>“The King and Queen are leaving earlier than planned—after the engagement ball, to be precise.”</p><p>Jack’s brows lifted in surprise. He had to admit that this change in schedule was a little more than a hiccup in this grand scheme of his, and was honestly not something he anticipated. He was just about to respond when Toothiana burst into the room in an explosion of her native iridescent skirts, accompanied her high-pitched voice apologizing for her late appearance. Elsa moved to speak with her, but before she left his side, she leaned closer to him, her voice dropping to a soft, almost teasing whisper, “You better make haste, my lord, if you truly wish to see me on the next ship back to Arendelle.”</p><p>His teeth threatened to shatter at how tightly his jaw snapped shut. She winked at him. “And <em>do</em> bring on the worst—you’ll find that it will take a little more than bean paste to scare me away.”</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>“What about music?” Toothiana asked loudly over the pianoforte.</p><p>When she met with them in the drawing room, Elsa’s haughty bravado faltered significantly, giving way to the panic that seized her chest. <em>‘I’m afraid we must postpone that garden walk. I’ve hired a dance instructor to assist you for the first dance tomorrow evening, as per tradition,’ </em>she had said. Elsa remembered vehemently expressing that <em>she did not dance,</em> but her protests fell on deaf ears and she still found herself in the ballroom not a moment later. Their ballroom was smaller than theirs back in Arendelle, but it was by no means <em>small;</em> the massive double doors opened to a spacious hall, its glossy checkered tiles reflecting the lights of the sconces mounted on the spaces between the broad windows on either side. It was late afternoon, the sky outside quickly shifting from fiery orange to rich purple. The servants had been quick to light the great chandelier that hung from the center of the domed, glass ceiling, which was similar to the one in the foyer but grander in scale and design.</p><p>Elsa tried to answer; there were too many things happening at once, and her brain was severely trying to keep track of them all. While she listened to the instructor counting to the steady beat of the waltz, her attention was with Toothiana, who had been asking them for insights about the last few details of their engagement ball. On top of that, she was desperately trying not to trip over her own feet, her dress, or Jack’s toes. She wasn’t the worst dancer, though she was positively <em>certain</em> that the last few times his foot had caught hers were intentional. She scowled at him darkly; now, <em>he </em>was the smug one, and Elsa did not appreciate their swift role reversal. He grinned and spun her around with ease.</p><p>“No music,” Jack replied. Their dance was just a simple variation of the classic waltz, and their instructor was lenient enough, but for someone who ironically did not have the luxury of experiencing social gatherings that involved much dancing, there was no denying that Elsa was having difficulty concentrating on the steps. She managed to cast him an outraged look. “A ball without music is hardly a ball at all, my lord,” she countered.</p><p>“As if you would know,” he drawled, “And when was the last time <em>you</em> attended a ball, hmm?” Elsa frowned. She tore her graze from him to look over her left shoulder, her face flushed in embarrassment. She tried not to think too hard for an answer, and was saddened by the fact that it had been <em>too</em> long since her last ball for her to even remember. Her frown deepened. “I’m doing both of us a favor, princess,” he added lightly. “No music means no dancing. It’s a win for both of us, don’t you think?”</p><p>Her heel snagged the hem of her skirt then, throwing her slightly off-balance. Jack, on the other hand, was quick and light-footed, not once missing the beat as she tried to regain her footing. He was a lithe dancer, Elsa thought, for someone who had an apparent distaste for music. She found herself slightly jealous of his finesse. “I refuse to have a dull and lackluster ball, however opposed I am to all of <em>this.</em>”</p><p>He smirked. “Then shall we be expecting Your Grace to dance the night away?”</p><p>“Only if my lord allows music to fill his ballroom.”</p><p>His steely blue gaze met her stubborn one. In the back of her mind, she pictured herself trapped in this vicious dance with him forever. Is this what will become of her marriage? A wobbling, graceless tango where neither was willing to surrender to the rhythm of the other? She mentally shook the thought from her head. It was just her luck to have been paired with an equally unrelenting partner. She would let him take the lead... <em>for now</em>.</p><p>“Fine,” he said, his voice clipped. Jack spun her out to his side with a trifle more force than necessary. “I shall be looking forward to seeing you on the dance floor, princess.”</p><p>As she whirled back into his arms, Elsa stomped on his foot. Hard.</p><p>The music ended with a victorious smile on her lips and the loud, high-pitched wails of her dance partner.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: I updated the tags of my story because I think the previous ones were cringey and did not give enough details about my story so there's that... I will be updating the rating and warnings later on once I finish my outline. I hope you enjoyed this chapter :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A little ball because what's a historical au fic without some sort of dancing?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Though it was barely dawn, the whole castle was already alive with bustling activity. From her window, Elsa could see horse-drawn carts wheel in and out through the gates, some filled with heavy sacks of flour and produce, others stacked with wooden barrels and a variety of meat. As the morning progressed to high noon, she also noticed a few more elegant carriages arrive; she inhaled sharply and turned away from the window. She had always been skeptical on how Toothiana was able to manage the ball on such short notice, let alone send out invitations to their neighboring nobles. She knew that formal invitations would take <em>more</em> than two days for the invitees to receive, and even more for their assent to reach the host. When Elsa had asked for the guest list last night, she was astonished to see the long list of names that Toothiana handed to her. “News travels quickly around here,” she had explained. “And of course, everyone’s been expecting a grand celebration since the announcement of your betrothal—in fact, the only thing they needed was the date and time!”</p><p>Realizing that half the land already knew about her sudden betrothal—and probably the circumstances that led up to it as well—made Elsa think about just how <em>pretentious</em> this all was, and how much she would have to endure later tonight for the mere sake of appearances.</p><p>She kept to herself within the confines of her chambers for the remainder of the day, the only person to visit her being the same stout maid she had came to know as Philippa. She had brought her meals along with her newly cleaned night slippers, and had displayed her evening gown on a dress form in the corner of the room so as not to rumple the delicate fabric. It was one of Elsa’s favorites, one which she reserved only for special occasions. She sighed heavily. Had things been different, she would have gladly worn this gown to tonight’s soiree. It would have probably been held in Arendelle, and she would have been engaged to someone she knew and truly loved. She would have lavished the look of adoration in her betrothed’s eyes as she floated down the stairs. She would <em>not</em> have dreaded what so many women—including herself, though she would never admit to being a romantic out loud—have spent their whole lives dreaming about.</p><p>As lunch came and went, she took to pacing across the length of her room, sometimes pausing midway through to rehearse a step or two of her engagement waltz. Anxiety further killed her appetite as the minutes crawled by, taking their precious time prolonging her agony. She wanted desperately to find solitude elsewhere; the walls of her room felt like they were closing in on her, the air heavy and humid. More than once she considered taking a stroll in the gardens to soothe her nerves, or sneaking away to the drawing room to pass the time at the pianoforte. Every time she reached for the doorknob, however, she would hear muffled voices in the hall, and she would instantly withdraw her hand and start pacing again.</p><p>
  <em>Don’t let them in. Don’t let them see.</em>
</p><p>Elsa had always been a timid creature, and the circumstances of her childhood had exacerbated her shyness until it became a full-fledged fear of interacting with so many people. Not only that, but no one—except for the residents of the castle both in Arendelle and in Burgess—has physically <em>seen</em> her outside of her own kingdom for almost ten years. Even though her father had opened the gates just a just a couple of years prior, she shut herself from the world, for the fear that planted itself deep into her psyche as a child had grown as tall, imposing trees that kept her caged. And, to make matters worse, she found it oddly <em>comforting—</em>because in her isolation, she was<em> safe. </em>She was <em>free.</em></p><p>At half past four, her mother, already dressed in a ballgown with sheer sleeves that were slightly puffed at the shoulders, entered her room, followed by two servants to help her dress and style her hair. “Smile, my child,” her mother crooned, bracing light hands on her exposed shoulders and giving them a gentle squeeze. “You look beautiful.”</p><p>She felt her face twist in what she hoped was a convincing smile, though the quiver in the corners of her mouth betrayed her nervousness. She fought the urge to recede to that safe haven within herself, away from all the people and the celebration, away from all of <em>this</em>. Without cosmetics, her skin looked wan and clammy, emphasizing the evidence of a fretful night under her eyes. The color of her dress <em>did</em> bring out the icy hue in her eyes, and the shape of the lace collar and volume in the skirt respectively made her shoulders look slimmer and made her waist appear narrower. One of the maids was applying a bit of cosmetics on her lips when there came a knock on her door, followed by her father’s strawberry blonde head peeking through. After a final dab of dark pink stain on her lips, the two maids left her alone with her parents.</p><p>“Lord Bunnymund has already sequestered the guests in the ballroom,” he announced. “I have also spoken to your betrothed about your inexperience with large crowds. I asked him to be considerate and to help you familiarize yourself with the guests.”</p><p>“<em>Papa, </em>please, you didn’t have to—”</p><p>“I have instructed him not to leave your side, and if he does, I’ll have Mattias wring his—”</p><p><em>“Agnarr!” </em>her mother gasped, slapping her father’s shoulder in jest.</p><p>Elsa chuckled unashamedly, feeling a tenderness radiate warmth and relief from the center of her chest. She had the tendency to forget about her father’s thoughtfulness, which she had often misinterpreted as selfishness given the rough relationship they had over the years, and was now immensely grateful for it. She rose from her vanity chair and wrapped her arms around her father’s waist. He embraced her protectively, freeing one arm to wrap it around her mother’s shoulders. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, Elsa,” he said just as she pulled away from him. “These nobles… they’re here for the politics. And politics, my dear, is a game of charades. Conceal it…”</p><p>“Don’t feel it,” Elsa answered knowingly. Her father smiled fondly as they uttered the last line in unison.</p><p>
  <em>“Don’t let it show.”</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>Jack shuffled his feet nervously and stared at the floor. The fine, pearlescent silk cravat he wore around his neck felt too tight, and his hands kept flexing at his sides restlessly. The rest of his court were already inside the ballroom entertaining the guests. He hadn’t caught a glimpse of the crown princess all day, and after his brief interlude with none other than the King himself, he now understood why. He sadly bid farewell to his more <em>elaborately </em>planned tricks for the day; he would not have done away with them so easily, if the King had not asked him to be on his best behavior in the same, soft but assertive and albeit more threatening tone of voice Elsa had used on him the day they first met.</p><p>He scoffed lightly—she <em>was</em> her father's daughter.</p><p>He heard the soft thud of a door closing on the upper floors and stood by the stairs, bracing a hand on the railing in an attempt to look less stiff—he realized almost too late that he looked more impatient than relaxed, so he straightened to his full height and folded his hands behind his back instead.</p><p>He saw the King and Queen first, the former in his usual black ensemble, medals and black leather shoes buffed to mirror shine. The Queen wore her native purples, her straight evening gown ending in frills at the hem of her skirt. He bowed reverently as they reached the bottom stair. When he straightened, his eyes widened as they inevitably landed on <em>her</em>.</p><p>Elsa looked like one of the moon goddesses he had read about in Tsar Lunar’s books, the ones whose hair glowed like moonlight as they wove the clouds and stars into the tapestry that was the sky. She was wrapped in the finest of silks the color of the frozen sea, the layers of ruffles on her skirt strategically embellished with geometric crystals that parted the light into different colors as she moved. The collar of her bodice, edged with a dainty scalloped lace, sat just at the point of her slim shoulders, exposing the smooth, creamy column of her neck and collarbone, where the teardrop-shaped pendant of her diamond necklace rested. Her pale hair was swept in its usual braided updo, with the addition of a little white camellia pinned to its side, delicate strands of platinum blonde hair left free to frame her porcelain face.</p><p>She was nothing short of <em>heavenly</em>.</p><p>The last, echoing step of her descent broke the spell that enchanted him with her beauty. He blinked and belatedly realized that his jaw was slack; he must have looked ridiculous. But she was an oasis and he was a man dying of thirst. “You look ravishing, my dear,” he said, his throat suddenly very dry. Elsa quirked an eyebrow at the endearment, but smiled sweetly nonetheless. He wondered idly why the term easily fell from his lips, and was it the soft rouge on her cheeks, or was she blushing? He bowed and offered his hand with a flourish. She reached for it her own, bare, trembling one; Jack did not notice until then that she was not wearing her signature gloves. It would be the first time he held it in his without the barrier of silk separating them. Her hand felt smooth and supple against his skin, and was surprisingly cool as his lips lightly brushed her knuckles. “Shall we?”</p><p>He placed her hand on the crook of his elbow, feeling warmth radiate from the point where she clung tightly to him as they made their way to the ballroom, just a few paces behind the King and Queen. From the other side of the doors, he could hear the booming voice of the royal announcer. Else froze beside him at the mention of her name, her blue eyes wide and deep plum lips parted slightly in panic. “Elsa,” he murmured, a smirk already tugging at the corner of his mouth. The sarcastic remark died prematurely on his lips, purely taken aback at the sight of raw fear in her wide, glassy eyes. He swallowed just as the doors creaked open, whispering instead, “Don’t trip.”</p><p>The hall fell silent almost instantly as he led her through the double doors. The tremors in her hand worsened, which she attempted to control by squeezing his elbow tighter until he could feel her nails digging through the layers of his clothes. The sea of people parted to make way for them, the only sound echoing in the room being the shuffle of feet and rustle of skirts.  All necks craned to catch a glimpse of her, a hundred pairs of eyes trained on her like moths enticed by a flame; he could have been completely naked for all the attention they paid him. But if one cared to look closely, they would see how her breathing was hitched and shallow. They would notice how, despite how composed her beautiful features were, her forehead was creased in trepidation ever so slightly.</p><p>A small part of him reveled in her unease; it made up for the day of pranks he had to give up for tonight. The other, louder, half was absolutely thrilled and—dare he admit it—<em>enamored</em> to have her on his arm. He shook himself mentally at the thought.</p><p>After what seemed like a miniature eternity, he and Elsa found themselves in the center of the hall, just below the chandelier. He pried her white-knuckled grip from his elbow and led her to his front, preparing to bow just as the announcer’s voice resounded once more within the room.</p><p>“Ladies and gentlemen, the crown princess and the young lord’s first dance.”</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>The smooth, introduction of the music sounded like a death march in her ears. Elsa curtsied painfully slowly, her knees trembling so badly she thought she might collapse; she thanked every known deity that her skirt was full enough that it went unnoticed by the crowd. As she rose, she and Jack simultaneously floated a step toward each other, his hand smoothly snaking through her waist to rest at the small of her back. She gasped softly at his touch. She braced her left hand on his shoulder while her right landed lightly on his extended one. There was a strength to his thin shoulders, she noticed, feeling the muscles move as they swayed and spun around. For lack of anything better to focus on, she held his gaze as they danced. She was close enough that she could see a lighter pattern of blue surrounding his pupils, could smell something faintly akin to mint in his breath, and could feel the heat radiating from his body. Elsa felt lightheaded.</p><p>“I see you’ve decided to bring your right foot this time,” he remarked, lips barely moving. Her shock made her lose her footing for a split second, but Jack held fast. The hand on her back guided her back onto the rhythm of the dance with ease. His eyes sparkled. “Ah, but I spoke too soon. You <em>were</em> doing so gracefully.”</p><p> “Stop talking,” she hissed quietly, “They’re all looking at us.”</p><p>“Do not be alarmed, my dear, but I believe they’re all looking at <em>you.”</em></p><p>Her eyes darted wildly around the room, and though her surroundings were but a blur as they danced, she was suddenly hyperaware of everyone’s piercing gaze. She wanted to run and hide. She felt like some prey surrounded by hundreds of ravenous wolves, helplessly on display and unable to flee. She had never experienced this feeling before, and it struck her breathless with fright. “Elsa,” Jack whispered, bringing her attention back to him. His head was bent closer to hers now. In the light, she noticed that his hair had been fully restored to its former unblemished glory, the luscious white strands glowing like a halo around his head.</p><p>She had to keep talking to him. Yes, talking made her forget there was an audience. “I must say that I was quite surprised to not have woken up to another pair of ruined shoes this morning,” she said before he had the chance to speak.</p><p>“Ah, did you miss me already, princess?” he teased, his thin lips curled.</p><p>Elsa rolled her eyes at him, jutting her chin out ever so slightly. “Hardly. I just thought you seemed quite determined to make me leave to let such an opportunity pass. You could imagine my dismay when the day went by without interruption.”</p><p>“My plans have to unfortunately be put on hold,” he admitted. “As per the King’s orders, I am to be your chaperone for tonight. As if being your fiancé is not enough—but alas, who am I to refuse the King?”</p><p>They were side by side now, still twirling and swaying around. Elsa had to cover her mouth with her free hand to stifle her chuckle, shyly tilting her head away from him as she did. It made for a dainty display, she thought, and wondered if the audience thought the same.</p><p>Jack continued, “It may not be tomorrow’s ship home, but I will get you on one—eventually. Tonight can be reserved for a friendly truce, hmm?”</p><p>They spun in a large circle around the room, his strong hands lifting her effortlessly as she leapt upward and kicked her skirts, the layers of the fabric billowing elegantly outward as she whirled around. Her heart fluttered at the gasping crowd, the butterflies flying free from her stomach with every spring. When she faced Jack again, she muttered, “If mutual suffering is what you call a truce.”</p><p>Jack snickered, and she felt his shoulders shake at the low, throaty chuckle. Elsa wasn’t aware that she was smiling as well. “At least it’s a shared affair.”</p><p>She rolled her eyes again, but her smile did not falter. “Fine.”</p><p>The waltz was almost finished. How had she not noticed it? Her chest heaved, and she felt the same, warm tenderness blossom in her chest, causing heat to surge up to her cheeks. He spun her out with a flick of his wrist and she whirled back into his arms in time with the music, ending the dance with a slow and simple dip. They both took a step back from each other, an appreciative smile on her lips as she bowed to him. She thought his eyes appeared brighter somehow.</p><p>The crowd erupted in applause, and soon the entire hall was alive with another bout of cheery music as the crowd joined them for a second dance, so filled with fun and joy and laughter that Elsa wondered why she ever dreaded it in the first place.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WARNING: Light smut in the end. Do read to the end though things are about to get spicy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elsa’s earlier delight from the splendor and festivities foundered almost as quickly as it came. Though she enjoyed her second dance with Jack and the third with her father, her swollen toes ached desperately for reprieve. She could feel the onset of blisters on the backs of her ankles even though she wore her silkiest pair of stockings to help prevent the welting. She felt hungry but did not have the urge to eat, and she also yearned for some water, but all that was served was the sparkling champagne that roaming waiters handed around on trays.</p><p>Worst of all was the light conversations that passed in between dances—a ball was, after all, a very <em>social </em>event.</p><p>To his credit, Jack was doing wonderfully as her chaperone. He had not left her side since they entered the ballroom, as was his duty as her betrothed in addition to her father’s instruction. He had also been very courteous; he saw to it that she was introduced to every guest, and that she spoke with all of them at least once. That was, until Elsa later realized that Jack did not have the same outward display of courtesy in mind as he guided her around—it dawned on her that this was his way of subtly yet purposefully engaging her in the more awkward discussions, and she knew that he took pleasure in her growing unease so she did her best to hide her discomfort behind forced smiles. What annoyed her even more was that he was almost <em>too</em> smug about it, though more than once she had caught a foreign gleam in his eye whenever he looked at her and thought that she did not notice.</p><p>The conversations she had with her guests were nothing but perfunctory, so much so that she had observed a pattern in which the discussion would usually flow. It would begin with a compliment on her ballgown or on their performance during the first dance, followed by a casual remark on the food or the drink or the architecture of the ballroom. Elsa had responses prepared for this type of talk, and more polite ones for the most random inquiries that followed. However dull she found the conversations to be, knowing that she did not have to think too hard for a reply gave her a small degree of comfort.</p><p>The braver few of the guests had asked about the mystery behind Arendelle’s decade-long isolation. Some had been eager for the gossip while others were more genuinely curious, the latter receiving a more graciously delivered answer from Elsa despite the horrid bile that rose to the back of her throat in panic. Either way, her response had always been the same: that the story was too long and arduous to recount, and that the night was too young for such a tale to be told.</p><p>Jack had lead her away from the dancers after the fifth dance, one that she had with Nicholas St. North. He was a spritely old fellow, and since he was about three heads taller than her, his full beard all but covered and tickled her face throughout the dance. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Jack scowl at the deafening drum as they passed the band that was situated in the corner of the room. She smirked to herself—music to him was as dreadful as conversations were to her. At least their promise of mutual suffering was upheld.</p><p>In a sea of gentlemen clad in black, Jack stood out like a shining beacon despite wearing the same color, though his mop of pearly white hair already made him easily discernible amongst the crowd. Impeccably well-dressed, the black on black silk brocade of his tailcoat with its velvet lapels bore a unique pattern that revealed itself only when the light hits the fabric at the right angles. The tailcoat gave his shoulders more width, the cut tapering to a slim waist and hips. The cravat he wound closely around his neck emphasized the strong, sharp line of his jaw, the decorative silver stickpin engraved with a sigil she did not recognize. The touches of silver on his vest and coat buttons tied his whole ensemble together, and the contrasting tones of black and white brought out the stunning blue of his eyes.</p><p>Some of the guests were not as terrible as Elsa thought. One of her more pleasing encounters was with Ombric Shalazar, an old scholar from Santoff Claussen and St. North’s erstwhile mentor. He was wrapped in long billowy robes that kissed the tiled floor, with long silky white hair and an even longer silky white beard. He loved to experiment with trinkets and machines of his own design, and was in the middle of telling her about his one misfortune with a flying machine prototype when someone cleared their throat loudly behind her. She turned, and her eyes instantly narrowed to slits, the easy smile dying on her lips. “You have a lot of nerve to show up here <em>uninvited</em>, my lord,” she spoke slowly, venom thickly coating her words. The Duke of Weselton, with his slicked back hair and pinkish face, bowed exaggeratedly, completely unfazed. She muttered a quick excuse to Ombric, and the older man left with a courteous nod. “Forgive me, Your Grace,” the duke muttered, and it irked her that it held none of the apology. She stiffly introduced the duke to Jack, whose lips curled in amusement. “What brings you all the way from <em>Weaseltown</em>, good sir?” asked Jack, his tone so light and casual that Elsa almost missed the mockery.</p><p>The duke, however, did not.</p><p><em>“It’s WE-SEL-TON, boy!” </em>he snapped, his already reddish face flushed an even deeper shade. Elsa’s gaze darkened. The man was a head shorter than both her and Jack, and yet he carried all the air of a greater superior. She subconsciously straighted to her full height, glowering at him coolly with every intention of reminding him of his place. “You’d do well to mind your tone, my lord,” she warned. “You are a guest to <em>his</em> hall, after all.”</p><p>“Apologies. It seems that my long and <em>unsuccessful</em> business trip has worn my nerves thin.”</p><p>Elsa stifled a cruel laugh. “I understand, my lord. No doubt losing your closest partner in trade has set you back on your profit,” she remarked. The furrow in the duke’s brows, his inability to hold her gaze and the nervous twitch of his mustache told her that she had rubbed a sore spot. Jack stared at her as he observed their exchange, a question lingering in his eyes. Before the duke could utter a riposte, she held up a dismissive hand. “I think it’s best for you to leave and take your rest at once. Mattias will be happy to escort you out. Good night, my lord.”</p><p>She pulled Jack away from the duke, muttering under her breath as she scanned the audience for the Arendellian general. In the center of the hall, Toothiana flounced her luminous skirts as she twirled around with Bunnymund, dancing alongside St. North and her mother to the jaunty tune played by the band. She spotted her father sipping champagne from his flute, huddled with a group of familiar faces that were once his close associates. Mattias was nowhere to be seen.</p><p><em>“Pompous rat!” </em>she cursed. “Who does he think he is? Traipsing his way into our midst—uninvited at that! What lack of propriety! How dare he think he’s welcome here—!”</p><p>“What did the duke ever do to you?” Jack interrupted, a thin smile on his lips as he watched her fume.</p><p>She took a breath and exhaled loudly, smoothing her features over before her forehead creased any further. “When my father reopened the gates, we discovered that the duke had been exploiting our workers for years. So the King broke their contract and had since then forbidden any sort of business with Weselton.”</p><p>“Isn’t <em>Weaseltown</em> from the South?”</p><p>A waiter passed by, and Jack took the opportunity to snatch them both a glass. Elsa chuckled, but she shook her head as she took a long sip. “Yes, but keep in mind that the duke is a businessman. To him, there is no North or South. His loyalty belongs to the one who can give him the greatest profit.”</p><p>At long last she found Mattias, who was standing by the buffet table with a colleague, talking animatedly with him as he filled his plate. She turned back to Jack and groaned. “No rest for the wicked, it seems,” she grumbled, nodding to the duke as he snaked his way to the King. His smaller stature did have its advantages; Mattias wouldn’t be able to spot him from where he prowled. Jack handed her his glass and winked. “Or the mischievous, I’m afraid.”</p><p>He slipped away before she could ask what he meant, and a few moments later, there was a high-pitched, unmanly squeal from the duke as his oily gray toupee flew across the room.</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>The night of revelry ended sometime after the sun had started to peek through the hazy lavender clouds. Elsa stood at the foyer and bid farewell to the handful of guests that remained, watching leave in their fine carriages. She did not overindulge on the champagne, but the beginnings of a headache throbbed in her temples nevertheless. Exhaustion seeped deeply into her bones as she dragged herself up to her room, calling Philippa to help her change clothes. She made an inhuman sound of relief as her toes stretched out on the flat floor, effectively startling the old maid before she left her to her own devices. Wiping her face clean of cosmetics but foregoing the need to brush out the tangles in her hair out of sheer fatigue, Elsa unceremoniously flopped onto the mattress, succumbing to her much needed sleep.</p><p>Her parents’ departure was pushed to later that afternoon after they have rested well enough. Lunch was a quiet affair, and without all the excitement coursing through her entire system, Elsa found herself ravenous and devoured her chicken and broth eagerly. Afterwards, she helped her mother pack the rest of her things, though admittedly their trunks were barely touched. A few hours later, she found herself once more on the docks, listening to the sound of water lapping against the ship’s wooden hull and the dock’s stone foundation, trying not to let her thoughts wander to the dark recesses of her mind. “Always write to us, alright?” her mother said, pale eyes red and filled to the brim with tears, pulling her into a tight embrace. Elsa nodded with a sad, wistful smile as she broke away, her eyes burning with her own unshed tears. She willed herself not to cry, biting the inside of her cheeks down hard.</p><p>“Mattias will be staying behind with a few of his men. You’ll be safe here, Elsa,” her father announced. “I promise we’ll see each other again soon, my dear.”</p><p>“Safe travels, <em>Mama, Papa,”</em> she muttered quietly so that they wouldn’t hear her voice shake. Her father planted one last kiss on her forehead, and together with her mother, boarded the ship. Elsa watched from the docks as the crew hoisted the anchor and the wind caught the sails, guiding the ship out to open waters. When they were far enough, she felt a lone tear escape despite her iron will, the breeze on her face cooling the wet track on her cheek. She stood there until they disappeared from sight.</p><p>The following days found Elsa in the sourest of moods, incredibly more homesick than the day she first arrived. Since their one night’s truce for the ball was over, Jack sought to attack her with his barrage of pranks with renewed vigor. The very next morning after her parents had left, she woke up to a catapult-like contraption waiting outside her door; the machine shot her squarely in the chest with a sizeable pack of flour that exploded on impact, ruining her morning dress and causing her to almost miss breakfast. The next day, Elsa had to first swing the door wide open while she stood to the side just to be sure no traps waited for her before she left her room—and it worked, though only once. Pleased with herself after thwarting the pesky machine for the third time, she walked through the door only to trip on some sort of wire that in turn released yesterday’s porridge from a net suspended above her head.</p><p>She considered telling St. North and the others, but later thought fiercely against it. Not only would that paint a rather petty image of herself, but that would also show Jack that she was extremely peeved by his antics and she would rather <em>die </em>than give him the satisfaction. She could, in theory, retaliate as she had with the soot for hair powder, but the more mature side of her believed that she if he saw that his devilish tricks did not work on her, he would eventually tire of bothering her. If he wanted to act like a child, then she will treat him as such.</p><p>Elsa found her afternoons mostly undisturbed by the mischievous young lord, who at this time was usually stuck in lessons with Bunnymund in the library. So, she took to taking long strolls in the garden, breathing in the late autumn air and picking up some of the colorful leaves whenever their beautiful colors struck her fancy. It was a beautifully curated landscape, a simple square lot with a small stone fountain at the center. At present, it was a sea of bright orange and deep red, with very few patches of green and yellow in the surrounding shrubbery, save for the tall evergreens that lined the perimeter of the lot. She would sometimes sit on one of the wooden benches that lined the path, soaking up the last few hours of daylight before inevitably going back inside. Of course, she was always tailed by Mattias or one of his men during her garden visits. Other times, she walked around with Toothiana, and though the chatter lifted her spirits, she found that she would physically and emotionally tire much quicker than when she walked alone with her own thoughts.</p><p>One auspicious day, however, Elsa decided to forego her routinely garden visit to spend the afternoon reading in the courtyard. She passed the wide gallery hall, which were filled with portraits of a small pudgy man with a round rosy face, warm brown eyes alight with such wonder and joy, though she couldn’t help but giggle at his peculiarly styled hair that stuck up from the center of his forehead. Some of the paintings were of another squat man, sometimes garbed in robes of gold, and other times in the same military garb as her father. Elsa thought that his soft face, which was depicted as eternally sleepy, looked too mellow to be a high-ranking officer.</p><p>She reached the end of the hall, where another set of double doors opened to the courtyard beyond. It was a quiet and simple space, one that proved to be a sanctuary just for her. She sat on one of the low benches beneath the arch between two stone pillars when she heard an obscene moan from the door to her right, followed by a sharp hiss. She frowned. By the size and width of the door, it looked to be no bigger than a broom cupboard. She was just about to leave when she heard another noise, this time a breathy utterance of a name.</p><p>
  <em>“Jack…” </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>“Quiet, love,” Jack whispered in her ear, nibbling at the spot where her neck met her shoulder as he thrusted deeply into her from behind. He loved how wrecked she always looked during their quick trysts, with her skirts bunched up on her back and her drawers in a pool by her ankles. He loved watching her claw at the wall for support, back arched and head tilted back in ecstasy. She bit her gloriously bruised lips to stifle her moans, her breaths coming in quickly as one of his hands snaked its way up her thigh, deft fingers circling that sensitive pearl at the apex of her sex. Her knees buckled in the throes of her pleasure, forcing her to lean her forehead on the wall as his hips snapped furiously to the rhythm of his heart, hands braced on her hips, rapidly chasing his own release. His movements became stuttered and jerky as he came, blood pounding loudly in his ears as hot seed spilled from him. He kissed her exposed shoulder, her neck, the side of her face and finally, her lips, his softening manhood slipping from her slick entrance.</p><p>“I must go,” she breathed as she pulled away, pulling up her drawers and readjusting her skirts and apron. He tried to hide his scowl; he hated it when she wore that unoffending scrap of white cloth when she met with him. It reminded him all too well that they were <em>not </em>supposed to be together, however loudly his heart beat and his body desperately yearned for her.</p><p>“I know,” he replied, fixing his vest and closing the top few buttons of his shirtsleeves that she had earlier undone. She re-tied his cravat around his neck as a wife would do for her husband, and because he couldn’t help but feel such tenderness overwhelm him, he leaned in for another kiss, sweet and warm and without the fiery desire that seared through his veins just moments before. She pulled away with a soft smile and opened the door—and gasped loudly in surprise. Jack looked up and froze, rooted on the spot. He felt his blood turn to ice, his entire world halting to a sudden, screeching stop.</p><p>Elsa stood outside the door, leaning casually against one of the stone pillars, her eyes hard and her face set in a cold, deadly calm mask.</p><p>“Well, well, <em>well.”</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: I suck at writing smut but let me know what you think!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“Well, well, well.”</em>
</p><p>Her sing-song words echoed in the hollows of his brain and faded to heavy, leaden silence that stretched on for what felt like an eternity. Jack could neither move nor speak, held frozen in place by her unrelenting glare. The firm set of her jaw and brows could have easily been mistaken for an avenging angel’s, one sent by heaven to punish him for his crimes; and like a sinner in church, his strength left him and it was all he could do not to beg for mercy.</p><p><em>What was she doing here?</em> She was supposed to be in the gardens! He had been sneaking around for nearly half a year—and had cleverly avoided discovery if he did say so himself—and <em>of course</em> it had to be Elsa who had finally caught him. God, how could his timing fail him so spectacularly?</p><p>Elsa’s stillness and composure unsettled him, as did the overbright gleam in her eyes. It made it difficult for him to read her thoughts. She could have been carved from marble for all the emotion she displayed, a statue that mocked him and made him feel as though its stony eyes observed his every movement. How long had she been outside the door? Lord in heaven, what had she heard? He dimly felt his Adam’s apple bob nervously against his cravat as his mind raced to find the best way to proceed when a flicker of recognition crossed her face.</p><p>
  <em>“Katherine.”</em>
</p><p>A terrible numbness spread from his chest all the way down to his toes, and when his head started to spin Jack realized that he had forgotten how to breathe. <em>How did she come to know Katherine?</em></p><p>Katherine winced at the sound of her own name, and like him, his lover had been robbed of speech in the presence of his betrothed. Elsa’s gaze roamed from the tip of her head down to the hem of her skirts, regarding her rumpled form with barely concealed distaste—clothes gloriously disheveled, strands of auburn hair hanging loose from her updo in various places, lips swollen and puffed from his earlier kisses. He was only slightly thankful that he was still partially inside the cupboard because he was sure that he looked just as wrecked. Katherine’s tense shoulders were bunched closely to her ears as if she were expecting a blow. He badly wanted to move her behind him, to shield her from Elsa’s boiling wrath and piercing blue eyes, but his feet were rooted in place and his arms felt like limp noodles attached to his sides. A small, derisive voice in his head chided him for being such a coward, and he grimaced inwardly.</p><p>“Pick up your cap and go. You are dismissed,” Elsa commanded, and though her tone was subdued, her voice rang strong and true like the whistle of a rapier slicing through the air. If it were possible for his insides to shrivel up and for his body to implode, then Jack felt just that. Katherine’s whimper emerged small and shaky; he could not see her face, but he knew that she was on the verge of tears. “Y-Your Highness?”</p><p><em>“Pick up your cap,”</em> Elsa jutted her chin to the direction of the floor behind him, her words punctuated with mild impatience, “and <em>leave</em>. It’s almost time for supper, and the kitchens will be requiring every pair of hands to help with the meals, yes?”</p><p>His head spun as relief washed over him, shakily exhaling the breath that he had subconsciously been holding. No, Elsa was not sending her away, but he suspected that they were still very far from the clear. Katherine nodded her head vigorously and shuffled quickly around Jack’s stiffened form to pick the discarded piece of head covering from the floor, pausing midway between him and Elsa, frightened gray eyes flitting between them. Jack nodded his head slightly, hoping to reassure her without words. <em>It’s alright,</em> he wanted to say.<em> Everything is going to be alright.</em></p><p>“I need to speak with Lord Frost alone, Katherine. The next time I ask you to leave will be the last time you’ll receive orders from anyone in this castle,” Elsa snapped, a brief flare of fury molding her face into something even greater men would cower from. Katherine glanced at him one last time, and he saw the fear in them dissolve into trust. His heart clenched.</p><p>
  <em>I will fight for you. For us.</em>
</p><p>Katherine left the courtyard with a clumsy, embarrassed bow, shutting the door behind her quietly. Elsa turned to him then, the cool impassive mask smoothing over her features once more. Another lengthy silence, this one more deafening than the last, filled the space between them. He was still half-hidden in the shadow of the broom cupboard; he hoped that the darkness hid the sheen of perspiration coating his forehead and the nervous twitch firing in his jaw. “Have you anything to say for yourself?” she asked quietly, her voice as sharp as a dagger’s edge. Her words inflected an undertone that he could not quite pinpoint, and it bothered him greatly.</p><p>“I love her,” he whispered, eyes downcast. When had his throat become incredibly dry? The same, mocking voice laughed him. <em>Pathetic.</em></p><p>“Come again?”</p><p><em>“I love her,”</em> he repeated, this time finding strength in the words—three little words that slowly breathed life back into his body, making him step forward into the light as he straightened his back and met her eyes boldly. Completely unperturbed by his sudden burst of confidence, Elsa made a noise somewhere between a snort and a scoff. “And what do you know of love?” she asked.</p><p>He sneered. “What do <em>you?”</em></p><p>“Nothing much,” she replied coolly, “but I do know the law. I know that she will never be a fit consort for a lord. And seeing as you are… <em>intimately involved</em> with the household, you are, likewise, unfit for me.”</p><p>He stared at her, jaw slack as her last few words sunk in. Was she… was she letting him go? A fire inside his chest sent his nerves ablaze with anticipation, daring him to hope. Elsa curtsied gracefully, and he noticed that there was a smug curl in her lips as she did. Hope diminished, the fine hairs on the back of his neck stood up as if they sensed danger.  “Congratulations, my lord,” she said with a saccharine air, “You’ve succeeded in changing my mind about our betrothal. I shall speak to Lord St. North at once about my departure, and my reasons.”</p><p>She turned sharply on her heel and stormed off to the door. As if broken from a trance, he blinked at the sound of the door closing; she was gone. Every muscle in his body that was pulled taut by the tension in the courtyard snapped as he sprung into action, sprinting loudly down the gallery hall. Elsa moved fast for a woman drowning in yards of heavy fabric; he nearly slipped as he rounded the corner just to catch up to her. “Wait!” he cried hoarsely, reaching out and grabbing her forearm. She instantly recoiled from his touch, maneuvering her arm out of his grip and turning to face him in one fluid motion. He stomached the look of disgust she gave him and forced the lump that was choking him down his throat. “Don’t… don’t tell them,” he panted, “They would cast me out, disown me. I <em>beg</em> you… please don’t tell them.”</p><p>As he caught his breath, he desperately tried not to let fear creep into his pleading voice, but what was left of his will was currently preoccupied with shutting out the disappointed faces of St. North, Toothiana, Tsar Lunar, and even Bunnymund, that filled his mind. He saw in their eyes that they no longer had faith in him, and even imaginary, the weight of their disapproval crushed him to the core. His stomach lurched uncomfortably, terror prickling the nape of his neck.</p><p>Elsa raised an incredulous eyebrow at him. “This is what you wanted, is it not? To find a way to put an end to this cursed union so you could frolic into the sunset with your <em>servant girl?</em>—”</p><p><em>“Watch it, princess—”</em> he warned.</p><p>“—Then why don’t I make things easier for the both of us? What’s stopping me?”</p><p>It finally dawned on him then. She had been <em>mocking</em> him—from the vindictive gleam in her eyes down to the defiant tilt of her chin, she looked every bit the good little girl who had finally caught the naughty little boy red-handed. She wielded more power over him in that moment than she ever did despite being crown princess and she <em>knew</em> it. She knew that he was at her complete mercy. She dangled it in the air in front of him, knowing full well that he would do anything to get it back. Jack narrowed his eyes at her smug, pale face. “Name your terms,” he hissed through gritted teeth.</p><p>Elsa’s grin widened almost maliciously, shifting her weight and tilting her blonde head to one side. “That desperate, are we?” she drawled. His face felt feverishly flushed, heart hammering thunderously against his rib cage and blood pounding angrily in his ears. He clenched his jaw with an audible click, shoulders squared and hands fisted at his sides as if preparing for a fight. When he did not respond, she rolled her shoulders back and straightened her posture with practiced nonchalance. “Very well, then. The pranks have to stop.”</p><p>“Done,” Jack replied sharply. “Anything else, <em>princess?”</em></p><p>His lack of hesitance and quick response surprised her. She paused, thoughtfully considering. In hindsight, Jack thought that he should have sounded more reluctant lest his conviction only serve to spur her on with more requests. He could handle losing this battle for now, but he could not afford to lose this brewing war between them. When she finally answered, he did not miss the change of emotion in her tone and eyes; it was almost remorseful, sympathetic even. “While I understand that we both had our separate lives before this unfortunate engagement, you should know that I still intend to fulfill my duty to my people and my kingdom,” she began. Jack held his breath; to some degree, he had expected that she would ask this of him, but the idea did not fully occur to him until the words poured forth from her lips.</p><p>“This means that in a year, we will be wed. I cannot and <em>will not</em> allow you to put this arrangement at risk, not for your own selfish whims. Promise me, Jack—promise me that you won’t do anything to ruin this.”</p><p>He wanted to burst into hysterical laughter right there in front of her, propriety be damned. He saw it coming, but was stunned nonetheless by the magnitude of its absurdity. As a reply, Jack crossed his arms defiantly in front of his chest. Elsa continued gently, though her voice was edged with mild annoyance, “As much as I detest your perverse affair with the staff, I am not that cruel. I am not a complete villain, Jack. I told you—<em>I understand.</em> I will allow you to see your servant girl as often as you wish—oh, for heaven’s sake, do <em>not</em> give me that look—I only ask that you be more discreet!”</p><p>He was gaping at her like a fish out of water, completely at a loss for words. Now, it was his turn to scoff, running his fingers through his hair in agitation before placing his hands indignantly on his hips. He was getting more fidgety by the minute, rallying desperately for equanimity despite the nervous energy in his limbs that made him want to pace the entire length of the hall. “What makes you think that I’m stupid enough to agree to that?” he snapped.</p><p>“I told you I underst—”</p><p><em>“No, you don’t,”</em> he said firmly, effectively cutting her off. They were barely a pace apart, almost as close as they were when they danced during their engagement ball. He could clearly see the freckles that spotted her nose and cheekbones, and the flush that brought out a rosy tint on her otherwise fair features, even in the dimly lit corridor. He forcefully exhaled with his fingers steepled beneath his nostrils as if in prayer, breathing slowly to steady his still racing heart. “You don’t understand, princess,” he said again. “You cannot even <em>begin</em> to understand. I have just as much, if not more, to lose here. You cannot expect me to bet everything that I have on your feeble ‘understanding’, not while you are so intent on using it to your own advantage. And what's worse is that either way, I lose.”</p><p>Elsa’s brows furrowed in a manner that he could not quite place—was it curiosity that formed in the crease between her eyebrows? Sympathy? He could not tell. “I give you my word that your little secret shall be safe with me,” she swore, and if he did not know any better, he would have thought that she was actually sincere.</p><p>He opened his mouth to protest further when St. North’s booming voice echoed from the opposite end of the hallway, making them both jump ten feet into the air. “Jack, my boy! Oh, and Your Highness—forgive me, I did not see you there. What are you still doing here? Come, supper is about to be served in the Great Hall,” he called cheerfully, the hardwood floor creaking slightly under his heavy leather boots as he marched away. Elsa turned to follow when Jack caught her arm again. “Your word,” he said. Despite how desperate it made him look, he kept his grip firmly on her elbow and plead her silently with his gaze. Something he had said earlier made her bravado falter and crumble; he could see it in her eyes. After a few moments with no other sound other than their own breathing, she swallowed and replied, “You have my word.”</p><p>He exhaled through his nose and he let her go. Elsa took a few steps away from him, the stony, expressionless mask she had worn back in place. “But suffer no delusions, Jack: I will not come to your rescue if, and <em>when,</em> you get caught. So best be careful from this point on.”</p><p>She turned and left for the Great Hall without a second glance, the finality of her words hanging in the still too heavy air. Jack sighed and braced himself against the wall, clapping a hand to his forehead.</p><p>He was going to regret this.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: If you haven't noticed from the previous chapter, I updated the rating of my story to account for the light smut in the end... I'm not quite sure if I should change it to 'Mature' because really it's just a small portion of the chapter. Anyways I will put warnings at the start of the chapter when things get spicier in the future, and maybe I will change the rating then.</p><p>Hope you enjoyed reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Jack, I appreciate the <em>constant</em> company, but do you truly have <em>nothing</em> better to do?” Elsa groaned, setting her knitting needles and half-finished scarf down on her lap in annoyance. The library was empty save for the two of them—the others, no doubt, were outside, for the sun had decided to emerge out of its bed of thick clouds for the entire day. Elsa sat in one of the lush settees, bathed in the meek afternoon light pouring from the large glass windows, warmth penetrating through the thick layers of her indigo dress.</p><p>“On the contrary, I am perfectly enjoying my time <em>right here</em>,” Jack replied dryly, sprawled on the opposite divan with his head resting on one armrest and his feet kicked up on the other, a thin worn book in hand. In the sunlight, his hair was a glaringly bright halo around his head, his long, dark lashes casting shadows on the tops of his cheeks. “Now <em>shush,</em> princess. I’m trying to read.”</p><p>Elsa fixed him with a look. True to his word, the young lord had retired his pranks immediately after they spoke; he even went as far as letting himself fall victim to his last trick, which involved a paste-like adhesive and a bucket full of goose feathers. An unfortunate downside of their sworn arrangement was that Jack, who was bent on ensuring that she held her end of the bargain, was now determined to keep an eye on her at all times. To be frank, the only time she was ever alone was when she woke up and slept, or when excused herself to use the privy. He followed her around like a puppy on a leash, never too close but always staying within his own earshot and peripheral vision.</p><p>They have not spoken to one another since she caught him in the broom cupboard a few days ago, save for the quick and cursory chatter in the presence of the other lords, especially Lady Toothiana’s.</p><p><em>“Tales of Mother Goose</em> upside down?” Elsa rolled her eyes as Jack hastily flipped his book right side up, clearing his throat loudly before resuming his perusing act. She snorted and carried on with her knitting, shaking her head. “You’ll find that actually attempting to read will help you pass the time much quicker.”</p><p>Jack heaved a heavy sigh and flicked the book closed, tossing it to the center table between them. He cupped both of his hands on his face for a brief second before sitting bolt upright, his heavy boots echoing loudly as they landed on the hardwood floor. He planted his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low hiss, “Listen, princess, I do not enjoy following you around any more than you do. I’m doing this simply because <em>I do not trust you</em>.”</p><p>Elsa’s jaw dropped incredulously, needles falling back onto her lap once more. “I gave you my word—”</p><p>“As did I. But do not even <em>pretend</em> to deny that you still check your shoes before wearing them, or that you still swing the door open and expect something to happen before you leave your room.”</p><p>She opened her mouth to argue then promptly closed it. Elsa leaned back in her seat, taken aback by the truth in his words. His expression held no heat, but her cheeks burned under his gaze nonetheless. There was a seriousness in the set of his jaw that was uncharacteristic of him, and since she did not know what to make of the vulnerability she saw in those pools of ice, she watched the way he fiddled with his long, thin fingers instead. The person sitting across from her right now was not the mischievous young lord she had come to know since her arrival—no, this was the boy who had begged her in the hallway with such raw emotion and desperation that it skewered right through her frozen heart, that it left her utterly baffled at how much she had shaken his bravado since then.  </p><p>
  <em>I have just as much, if not more, to lose here.</em>
</p><p>“I won’t tell them,” she heard herself say, the solemnity of her tone surprising her. She finally glanced up to meet his hard eyes, but they held each other’s gaze for only half a second before Toothiana fluttered through the library doors, followed closely by Bunnymund and St. North. “Won’t tell who what?” she asked brightly, completely oblivious to the nervous energy emanating from the two.</p><p>“Nothing!” Jack answered all too quickly, glancing wildly at Elsa out of the corner of his eye. Toothiana raised a questioning brow and put her hands on her hips in a mildly threatening manner, unique magenta eyes narrowed in jest. Elsa uttered a reply before Jack's face could pale any further. “Nothing indeed, my lady—except that I promised Jack that I wouldn’t tell you how bored he was watching me knit that he’d taken to reading books upside down just to entertain himself.”</p><p>Toothiana’s shoulders shook as she laughed, the sound like chimes in the wind. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” Bunnymund grumbled, smoothing his grayish blue hair back as he removed his top hat, revealing streaks of white on either side just above his temple. Elsa chuckled as Jack’s prominent ears turned slightly pink. St. North beckoned him to the door, his fur-lined coat swishing as he turned. “A little time in the workshop ought to liven you up,” he declared. Standing near the doorframe with his black fur hat just barely brushing the top, Elsa had a sneaking suspicion that every door in the castle was built to accommodate St. North’s tall, buff figure. Jack started to protest, moving to pick up <em>Tales of Mother Goose </em>once more before Bunnymund plucked him out of the couch by his coat sleeve, ushering him out the door with St. North in tow.</p><p>As soon as the doors shut closed, Toothiana sank langorously against the cushions beside her, her dangling earrings catching the golden light as she rearranged her skirts. “You’ll have to forgive him,” she began, just as Elsa was about to restart her knitting. At this rate, she will never get to finish her scarf, but she set her work aside anyway. “Jack can be quite stubborn. It will some time to get used to.”</p><p>“Actually, he has been rather compliant over the last few days,” Elsa remarked. The two women looked at each other and chuckled. Elsa suddenly craved for some tea, with biscuits or a sweet pastry. As if sensing her thoughts, Toothiana rang for one of the servants waiting just beyond the door and ordered him to fetch them some food.</p><p>The small countess filled the silence of the library with light chatter until their food arrived on a silver tray, which was filled with enough delicious cakes and confectionery to make Elsa’s mouth water. She indulged herself with the chocolate profiteroles, pacing her bites carefully as she listened to Toothiana, who was recounting one of the mishaps that occurred in the laundry earlier. She delicately sipped her tea while Elsa finished the last of her pastries, all the while casually asking about her knitting, how she was adjusting to life in Burgess, how she and Jack were getting along. Toothiana sometimes shifted between a visage of her mother and Anna as they spoke, and Elsa found that she had missed these kinds of conversations over afternoon tea. She allowed herself to enjoy the moment until there was a quiet pause, during which Jack’s pleading eyes and anguished words easily crept back into her mind.</p><p>
  <em>You don’t understand, princess.</em>
</p><p>“My lady?” Elsa started. Toothiana set her teacup down on the center table with its saucer, waving her point finger as she swallowed. “We agreed on using our Christian names, my dear,” she reminded her, the curl of her lips sweet and warm.</p><p>Elsa blushed, cupping her cold fingers around the warm sides of the china. She took a deep breath, then spoke again. <em>“Toothiana,”</em> she said, this time earning a courteous and encouraging smile from the countess; Elsa swallowed before continuing, “Pardon me for asking, but I’ve been doing a bit of reading—on Burgess’ history, the Lunanoffs. I couldn’t help but notice that Jack or his family were not mentioned anywhere. Might I ask… how is Jack associated with the late Tsar?”</p><p>She hated how ignorant she sounded, but she needed to know. If Jack had paid much closer attention to her, then he would have discovered why she suddenly preferred staying in the library for the past week—she hunted for books about the great House of Lunanoff in search for answers that would help her <em>understand</em>. It took a bit of stealth and creativity on her part so that Jack would not see what she was reading, but somehow she managed. But the longer she read, the more questions arose than answers; she would have asked Jack herself, but she highly doubted that he would entertain her inquiries.</p><p>After Toothiana’s hesitation spanned more than a few heartbeats, Elsa was finally forced to look up from her tea. The countess’ face had turned solemn, glowing fuchsia eyes dimming to a darker, more pensive shade. Her thin, arched brows were furrowed in contemplation. After a few more breaths, she finally spoke. “I suppose I could tell you, but you must hold our discussion in confidence. Jack will not appreciate that I told you.”</p><p>Elsa nodded her assent. Toothiana continued, “Very well, to answer your question, my dear: he <em>isn’t.”</em></p><p>She had expected that answer, but her eyes still widened at the revelation. “Jack and the late Tsar are not related by blood,” she explained. “Tsar Lunar XII was the last descendant of the great House of Lunanoff, the last heir to the throne of the Golden Age.”</p><p>“Then… how did Jack become a lord?” Elsa asked, her voice small but curiously eager; suddenly she was eight years old again, listening intently to one of her father’s bedtime stories with Anna at her side.</p><p>“If you’ve read the history of the Golden Age, then you might already be familiar with the war that tore the empire apart,” Toothiana began. “A rebellion lead by a man who was only ever referred to as ‘The Nightmare King’ brought about the downfall of the Lunanoffs. The Tsar was very young then. Desperate to save their son’s life, his parents entrusted him to the care and protection of General Sanderson Mansnoozie. With a handful of his remaining men, he immediately fled to Burgess, which at the time was established as one of the Lunanoff’s most fortified strongholds, manned by St. North in his youth.</p><p>“Among the soldiers that went with Sanderson was Jack’s grandfather,” Toothiana said. “But he did not live long; to ensure that Sanderson and the others would make it to Burgess, he broke from the group to delay their pursuers, giving his life in the process. If it had not been for him, the Tsar would not have made it to Burgess alive, where he would rule as the land’s gentle guardian after the fall of the Golden Age and the end of the war with the Nightmare King.”</p><p>She paused for a moment, and Elsa saw renewed grief in the depths of her berry-colored eyes. “The Tsar passed away from an illness four years ago,” Toothiana went on, voice tight with fresh sorrow. “As he lay dying, he instructed us to find a boy named Jackson Overland Frost, for the Tsar had named him his heir. He never married, you see, and had no other family. So he bequeathed to the boy all of Burgess and everything that he owned, including his lordship.”</p><p>Elsa’s tea had grown tepid in her cup by the time Toothiana finished. She gently set the china on the table next to the tray, the movement slow and calculated as a deeper understanding dawned on her. “He was chosen,” she murmured.</p><p>Toothiana nodded. “We all were—St. North, Bunnymund, myself included. Jack was the youngest to be chosen out of all of us. Barely fourteen at the time of the Tsar’s death, we found him wandering alone in the village. His own mother had just passed, less than a year after his sister’s untimely death. When we found him, he barely remembered <em>how</em> it happened, and knew only that they were gone and that he was now an orphan.</p><p>“I am not quite sure he remembers, even now,” she admitted quietly. “He recalls bits and pieces, though never enough to make a full story. The people in the village did not seem to know him either, so it is possible that he wandered away from home.”</p><p>“Why didn’t he know? What happened?” asked Elsa.</p><p>“That, I cannot say for sure.” Toothiana shook her head. “The mind is a very powerful thing, Elsa. Imagine, the trauma of losing your sister and mother within months of each other—no one should be burdened with such loss, especially at such a young age. The mind is also so fragile that, to protect it from itself, it might have locked those terrible memories away for now, until it decides that it is strong enough to handle the pain associated with them.”</p><p>Elsa rose from the settee to stand by the window with her back turned to Toothiana, her chest tight with overwhelming sympathy. She watched as her breath condensed into a misty circle on the cold surface of the glass, watching it slowly disappear as Toothiana carried on. “We’ve been grooming him since we took him in, guiding and preparing him for the responsibilities that came with the title he now inherited,” she said, “But alas, he is but a boy. He never quite outgrew his mischievous streak, thought I suspect that it is because of some unresolved resentment towards the Tsar. After all, Jack is still yearning for answers, answers that he would have otherwise received had the Tsar lived long enough to meet him in person.”</p><p>Elsa glanced at her over her shoulder. “The Tsar did not leave his reasons in his will?”</p><p>“I’m afraid not. But we assume that it was because of Jack’s grandfather, and the sacrifice he gave so that the Tsar might live.”</p><p>Elsa nodded in understanding. Her mind wandered far beyond the walls of the castle as the fiery afternoon sky gave way to the darkness of the night. She had stayed in the same spot by the window long after Toothiana had left the library for supper, and decided to head directly to her room instead of joining them down in the Great Hall. By the time her meal was brought up, she was already dressed in a pearly white nightgown and was definitely not hungry anymore.</p><p>She stood by one of the windows in her room, her reflection on the glass a ghostly apparition in white. The sky was clear that night, and the full moon shone brightly against the inky black sea of twinkling little stars. Everything made sense to her now: why Jack had been so afraid that she would turn on him, why he detested her so much when she used his affair against him. Elsa had heard of enough scandalous acts of her fellow nobles to expect that Jack would get off just as easily. Then again, he was not born into nobility as the others were—he was simply a boy who had no home, no family, and no recollection of them, who now had a title, his subjects, and his land. She understood now how much all of that meant to him, because in the face of not knowing who he was or what his new status made him, <em>that</em> was all he had.</p><p>How young and confused he must have been, trying to grasp his newfound responsibility while others in the similar position have had it ingrained in them since their infancy. How lost he must have felt, not knowing why he was chosen; she understood the bitterness that had stemmed from it. Maybe that was what stunned her that day. She knew now that the frightened young boy was still inside him, hidden safely behind the walls of his sarcastic front—she had caught a glimpse of him in the hallway when he nearly threw himself at her feet. How could she not have compassion for that same boy who, underneath everything else, was struggling under the weight of other people’s expectations as she does? The same boy who endeavored to not disappoint the people who mattered to him the most as she did?</p><p>She had not expected that she would empathize with Jack this deeply. How would that change things between them? She could not tell him what she knew; he would see it as another thing for her to use against him. But she did want to let him know that she <em>did </em>understand, more than either of them knew, and that he could trust her. Her thoughts kept her awake well into the early morning hours, until she finally drifted off to shallow, uneasy sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elsa was unusually absentminded today. She was only half-paying attention to the discussions that filled the breakfast table—however reserved she may be, Elsa would normally interject a comment or two, if only to be polite. This morning however, only the slight nod of her head indicated that she was listening. Anyone else would think that the crown princess simply still needed to get the sleep out of her system. After all, the remains of a sleepless night could clearly be seen on the pallor of her skin and the dark circles under her eyes. But Jack felt that there was more to her than she was letting on—did something bother her? Was it because of what she and Toothiana had talked about in the library yesterday? Last night, Jack had barely eaten because of her notable absence, and the anxiety born from it. He had yet to find out what she and Toohiana had discussed, but if he were to go by the countess’ mood at dinner, he was almost positively sure that it wasn’t about his secret affair. Almost.</p><p>Breakfast ended uneventfully, and while the servants cleared the plates away, Elsa quietly excused herself and slipped out of the Great Hall. Like a magnet attracted to its polar opposite, he followed. She did not stop to wait for him, nor did he quicken his pace to catch up with her. She only paused a few steps up the stairs, her gaze angled down to where he stood on the floor. “I am only going back to my room, Jack. I do not need to be followed,” she said. Even sleepily tired, her voice held a modicum of authority.</p><p>“Apologies, princess,” he replied with a curt bow. “I just wished to know how your afternoon went with Tooth.”</p><p>Elsa hesitated, blue eyes seeing right <em>through</em> him as if he were made of glass. He swallowed, steadily growing uncomfortable and fidgety under her watchful gaze. “Rest easy, my lord. A lady is allowed to keep a few secrets, but that does not mean that she has to spill a few to gain more,” she finally answered, much to his dismay. That was both what he wanted and did not want to hear; what <em>on earth</em> had they discussed?</p><p>Before he could ask any further, she continued her way up the stairs, her padded footsteps echoing until he heard her door click softly closed.</p><p>With Elsa having withdrawn to the comforts of her chambers for the remainder of the morning, Jack found that he had absolutely no idea what to do with the amount of free time he now had. His routine for the past few days had revolved around bonding with the crown princess—that routine being Toothiana’s idea, reinforced only by his resolve to guarantee that Elsa will not betray his confidence. It was his afternoons that were normally busy, either because of studies with Bunnymund in the library or sessions with St. North at the forge.</p><p>A thought popped into his mind, one with a name and a face and a mop of auburn hair.</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>“Do you think she told Tooth?” Katherine asked quietly, her chin resting on his chest as she peered at him. They were in the attic, bundled up in old quilts on the floor to shield them from the deathly cold that pervaded in the low-ceilinged space. Her eyes, the color of the sky before a storm, shone brightly in the slivers of noon light pouring through the oeil-de-boeuf, dirtied by the elements and years of neglect. He held her close to him, her body splayed across his side, warmth radiating from beneath their makeshift bedding.  Jack shook his head, freeing one of the hands that pillowed the back of his head to brush a red curl behind her ear. “I do not think so, love. If she did, Tooth would have had my head by now. And Bunny. And St. North. And probably the whole of Arendelle as well.”</p><p>He chuckled softly, but she merely smiled. “I don’t think we should trust her, love,” she whimpered, puffed lips jutted in a pout. “She can ruin this… ruin <em>us</em>—”</p><p>“I will never let that happen,” he vowed, cupping the back of her head and pulling her lips to his. A surge of heat flowed through his veins down to his groin, his hardening member pressing against the top of her thigh. Before he could deepen their kiss, Katherine pulled away, chuckling at the evidence of his arousal. “I must go, love,” she crooned sweetly, absently rubbing her thumb across his cheek.</p><p>Jack sighed, long and heavy, letting his head lull back on to the floor in defeat. Katherine planted a quick kiss on his cheek and removed herself from his side, a quilt wrapped around her slender figure as she reached for her chemise and drawers. He propped himself up on his elbows as he watched her dress, admiring the curves of her silhouette through the linen. “My lord better don his clothes or he won’t have his lunch,” she chided, glancing slyly at him as she planted her foot on a low box to pull up her stockings. Jack resisted the urge to growl at the sight.</p><p>He dressed quickly; he settled on leaving their pile of blankets on the floor—no one ever came up to the attic, anyway. Jack let her through the scuttle first, following quickly after she had called an all-clear. They walked through the hallways hand in hand until they reached the second-floor landing, which led to the open corridor that overlooked the courtyard. Jack let his hand slip from hers, catching her pinky lightly before he let go. She smiled at him sweetly.</p><p>They were halfway down the hall when a deep voice curtly called for them. Jack turned and saw General Mattias walking briskly towards them. In his usual Arendellian green, the furious thudding of his knee-high boots grew louder as he approached, Jack’s pulse quickening in response. He instinctively stepped forward between the general and Katherine, doing his best to block her from his view. “What is the meaning of this?” Mattias demanded, thick brows furrowed. “Do you not know how improper it is to be alone with a woman who is not your betrothed?”</p><p>Normally, to get himself out of trouble, Jack would have had a clever retort to utter—but he was too busy musing at the odds of being caught with the same woman in the same area <em>in the same week</em> to come up with one.</p><p>Mattias’ hazel colored eyes darkened at his lack of response. “You,” he said, side-stepping Jack and directing his attention to Katherine. “Explain your business with the young lord.”</p><p>Katherine nervously glanced at him over the general’s broad shoulder, her eyes pleading for help. Mattias, with his ever watchful eye, did not miss that reaction. He pursed his lips. “I can have you removed from this household if you do not answer my question, madam. Now, what—”</p><p>“That will not be necessary, Mattias.”</p><p>He and Jack whirled around simultaneously to find Elsa standing a few feet behind them, hands casually clasped at her front. The three of them bowed immediately at her presence. She looked better rested, he noticed, the natural flush in her cheeks and lips bringing life back to her pale features. Elsa approached them slowly, her heels clacking against the tiled floor. Mattias straightened and opened his mouth to argue, but Elsa held up a hand to silence him. “The fault is mine,” she said. Jack’s jaw dropped, and he was thankful that Mattias did not see his reaction as his back was turned to him. <em>What was she doing?</em> “I sent her to summon Jack for me. She was the first servant I came across, and I needed to speak with him urgently. Forgive me for my lack of foresight. I did not think how such a gesture would lack propriety to an oblivious eye.”</p><p>Elsa turned to Katherine. “I apologize for the misunderstanding. You may go.” Quick to pick up her cue, Katherine bowed politely and hurriedly left the three of them, almost jogging down the opposite end of the hall. “If you’ll excuse us, Mattias. I still have a few things to discuss with Lord Frost,” Elsa said, placing a hand on Jack’s elbow and firmly pulling him away from the stunned general.</p><p>Once they were out of earshot, Jack murmured, “Your timing is as impeccable as ever.”</p><p>Elsa shushed him, warily glancing over her shoulder to ensure that Mattias had gone. She slowed her pace as they neared the stairs. “Mattias will be keeping an eye on you from now on, especially Katherine,” she said, letting go of his elbow and using both hands to lift her skirts as they walked down the stairs. “Best lay low for a while, at least a week and a half to be sure.”</p><p>Jack stopped in his tracks, still a few steps up the stairway; Elsa was already on the floor before she realized that he wasn’t following her. “Why?” he asked.</p><p>“What do you mean why? I <em>did</em> remind you to be discreet—”</p><p>“No, what I meant was,” he corrected gently, descending the remaining steps to stand in front of her. His voice dropped to a low whisper, “Why did you lie?”</p><p>They were hidden in the shadow of the stairway that led to the gallery hall. He might have imagined it, or maybe it was a trick of the dim light, but he could have sworn that he saw an inscrutable expression flicker across her face. It was gone too quickly for him to discern what it was, her usual impassive mask quick to smooth over the foreign emotion. “You were right,” she answered plainly. Jack stepped back in surprise. She continued, “I do not understand you, but I’d hoped that you would permit me to learn. We might have a lot more in common than you think.”</p><p>Jack crossed his arms across his chest, leaning against the wall cockily. “Why the sudden change of heart, princess?” he probed. Elsa shrugged her shoulders in such a theatrical fashion, which included an expressive gesture with her hands, that he had to bite back a resulting grin.</p><p>“I am not in the habit of holding grudges,” she replied with a small, almost embarrassed smile, though the sincerity of her words did not falter. “In any case, we both carry different burdens with this… forced relationship. I do not wish to add to what you already bear. While we are still inevitably trapped in this predicament, we might as well help each other with the weight, don’t you think?”</p><p>“Is that your way of asking me to be <em>friends</em> with you, Your Highness?”</p><p>“Oh, goodness no,” she replied sarcastically, but without heat. The blush in her cheeks deepened, even as she rolled her eyes at him. “But do let me down gently if you do not wish to be; I am not accustomed to rejection.”</p><p>“You poor, lonely soul,” he mused. The grandfather clock by the stairs chimed, and by his count it was exactly twelve in the afternoon. Jack gave a flamboyant bow, extending his hand to her; she reached for it. “Shall we then, my dear <em>old</em> friend?”</p><p>Down her hand went, mouth pursed in admonition. “I am <em>not </em>that old.”</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>The next few days felt like a breeze. Jack no longer felt the need to follow Elsa around, and for the first time since their engagement dance, he quite enjoyed her company. They would greet each other at the table during breakfast, and again at the stairs before they parted ways at night. Their bickering continued, though it was noticeably more pleasant and far less like spitting venom at each other as they once had. He always liked to challenge her sharpness of wit, which usually lay in wait like a predator stalking its prey behind her quiet reticence; naturally, it did not come as a surprise to him when her raillery held itself well against his own.</p><p>As winter silently crept upon them in autumn’s wake, and the hearths of the Burgess keep roared to life, his humble court would meet in the drawing room after dinner for one of their early winter traditions. St. North loved to tell stories of his past, specifically of his childhood back in Mother Russia. He would tell a different tale for every winter night leading up to Christmas Day: some were true to life, others imagined for the sake of entertainment. He would sit with Elsa on one couch with Toothiana and Bunnymund on the other, leaving the center space wide open for St. North’s <em>very</em> expressive storytelling. Jack’s personal favorite was the tale of the Yetis in the north, and he could not help but beam in St. North’s retelling the night prior.</p><p>On the third night of their beloved tradition, St. North had been called away early from the dining table on some issue regarding the workshops, though he had promised that he would return in time for tonight’s story. They waited patiently for him in the drawing room, where Toothiana busied herself with some needle work while Bunnymund nursed a snifter of brandy. Jack sat beside Elsa with his elbow perched on the back of the couch; the side of his head leaned against his raised hand, his ankle resting on his opposite knee. He watched Elsa’s eyes as they flitted from the book on her lap to the Tsar’s pianoforte in the corner of the room by the window, her perfectly postured profile outlined by the warm glow from the fireplace. “Go on, already,” he nudged her. She raised a questioning brow at him. “You have been hideously flirting with it for the past half hour—that pianoforte is not going to make the first move, I assure you.”</p><p>“Oh, and <em>you</em> would know?” Elsa teased, closing the book on her lap.</p><p>“You do know how to play, right?”</p><p>She scoffed at him, but her bright blue eyes beamed. “Of course, I do. One learns a lot of skills when one has the time, and I had plenty, especially in isolation.”</p><p>He ignored the slight pang of sympathy at her words and nodded his head in the direction of the instrument, an encouraging albeit crooked grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. Elsa released a nervous breath, setting her book aside and finally crossing the room to sit on the bench. St. North had always kept the old thing in tune, though no one in the household knew how to play. She gently lifted the fallboard, running her fingers deftly across the length of the keyboard. Jack watched her from where he remained seated on the couch; he saw her shoulders tense as she inhaled, then ultimately relax as she played the first notes.</p><p>Elsa started with a soft and timid tune, lithe fingers coaxing a lilting introduction of a piece that tickled his insides. The flowing melody filled the space with a relaxing air; it seemed to make his place by the hearth just a little bit cozier. Bunnymund had even set his glass down to lean his head back against the cushion on his neck, green eyes falling softly closed. Elsa's upper swayed as her fingers danced on the keys, weaving a story of her own through the notes that rose and fell skittishly.</p><p>Then, with a deafening crescendo that jolted Bunnymund awake, Elsa struck a melancholy chord, the cadence of her song slowing to a more anguished pace. He felt his face upturn into a frown as she continued. He heard the warring emotions in the tinkling notes of doubt that climbed high on the upper register, right before they were crushed by another almost dissonant slam of fingers on ivory. He felt the melodious transition between hesitance and something more hopeful in the rests, the music growing louder as though to overpower the more sorrowful chord that threatened to drown it once more, until it soared to the highest notes of the keyboard and faded into conclusion.</p><p>His jaw was slack, hot liquid pooling in the corners of his eyes. Were those <em>tears?</em></p><p>He never had quite a reaction like this to music before.</p><p>A loud round of applause sounded from the doors; lost in the music as he was, none of them had noticed that St. North was already in the room. Elsa turned sideways on the bench and bowed her head in gratitude. “Forgive me,” she muttered with a small, embarrassed smile. “I’m afraid I could not resist such a fine instrument.”</p><p>“Do not apologize, my dear,” St. North chuckled heartily, standing by her side and putting a large hand on her shoulder. “It’s about time someone tickled those ivories. Please do with it as you please.”</p><p>“Very well. This next piece might be familiar to you, my lord.”</p><p>Her fingers graced the keyboard once more, a slow melody like chimes emanating from the pianoforte that ended abruptly with a quicker, jauntier tune. St. North instantly bellowed a bout of laughter, a childish gleam alight in his eyes; it did not take Jack a long time to deduce that Elsa was playing a Russian folksong. St. North danced on the carpet in the center of the room while Toothiana clapped merrily along to the beat. He rose from the couch just in time; St. North grabbed Bunnymund by the wrists and started twirling him around, much to the latter’s protestations. Had he stayed in his spot, he would have been the unwilling partner. Jack laughed as he leaned his hip against the pianoforte, and though Elsa could not see the chaos that erupted behind her, she could not help but laugh along with him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: I may or may not have spelled Mattias' name with an 'h' in the previous chapters (don't worry I've corrected all of them because this is incorrect) and I've added him in the character tags :)</p><p>I don't have canon evidence that Elsa played the piano I just thought that she'd have a few talents up her sleeve given how much of her time was spent in isolation so there you go hope you enjoyed this one!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Days at the Burgess keep have never been silent.</p><p>Before, Toothiana’s shrill voice would bark a quick command to any passing maid regardless of what unholy hour it was. The forge, though sequestered in a separate wing in the castle, would ring with sounds of metal clanging against metal, accompanied by St. North’s sonorous instructions. Jack would find ways to annoy Bunnymund until the older man burst into a string of unintelligible curses that could be heard down the opposite end of the hallway. But whenever Elsa placed her hands on the keys, the cacophony that filled their halls dwindled to nothingness almost instantly as if the whole world had stopped to listen. The doors of drawing room had been kept wide open since the night she first played, allowing her music to resound throughout the entire keep and drowning any noise that dared to impugn its tranquility.</p><p>Elsa now spent her mornings somehow creating peace and quiet from soft melodies. There were days when she did not leave the drawing room at all, and as a result, Jack also frequented the space. It was discomfiting at first, since memories of spending weeks contemplating his own existence and staring at the portrait of Tsar Lunar XII above the fireplace would resurface. Though, as the days progressed, he found that Elsa’s music kept them at bay, so he stayed close to her as he overcame his initial unease.</p><p>Once, Elsa tried to teach him a short song. “It’s a lullaby my mother would sing to us when Anna and I were little,” she had said.</p><p>The lesson went absolutely dreadfully to say the least. Try as he might, he all but butchered the basic melody—he <em>did</em> make her laugh until she almost fell off the bench, so the afternoon did not end entirely poorly. For him, her music paled in comparison to the sound of her laugh.</p><p>Most days, Elsa played lively little tunes, ones that brought a spring in his step and made his studies with Bunnymund a little more bearable. It was the kind of music that had her humming all the way through dinner. Other times, especially when she was alone, he would catch her playing something so wistful it sounded almost tormented, where the notes were so soft they were barely above a whisper—it was during those times that he had to summon every ounce of willpower that he had to walk away and <em>not </em>listen. It seemed… too <em>personal, </em>and it made eavesdropping as heinous as walking in on her in only her underthings—or <em>worse.</em></p><p>It was ironic, he thought, that for a person as private as she, Elsa was very much an open book, laid bare and bleeding, a wide breadth of unspoken feelings flowing freely from her music.</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>It was afternoon, and Jack was waiting for Bunnymund to arrive in the library, listlessly tapping the blunt end of his pen on the tabletop. His tutor was twenty minutes late—highly unusual of him, he thought. At half past one, he stood to leave when the door opened, allowing Elsa through. Her dress suited her very nicely today; despite the cooling atmosphere, the gown she wore had delicate, ruffly sleeves that reached only halfway down her upper arm and an elaborate lacy collar that covered most of the creamy skin of her neck and shoulders. She had foregone wearing her satin gloves, he noticed—in fact, the last time he recalled her wearing them was before she started playing the pianoforte. The color of the dress piqued his interest the most, as it was somewhere between ice blue and storm gray depending on the light; it made the color of her eyes shift in the same, mysterious manner.</p><p>She paused at the door, eyes trained on him—studying him as well, he realized. He was bare of the frock coat he usually donned, as he preferred to dress more casually for his lessons. He watched her eyes trace the swirling silver appliqués embroidered on the prussian blue velvet of his vest, watched them roam over the square of his shoulders and down the silhouette of his arms through his linen shirt. A rush of heat flooded his cheeks, the stretch of awkward silence between them suddenly unbearable. “Pardon my informality of dress,” he stammered, his voice coming out strangled; he loosened his white cravat a little. “I was supposed to have my lessons with Bunnymund, but it seems that the old man had forgotten me.”</p><p>“On the contrary, he sent me to teach you in his stead, as he was called to the village on urgent business.”</p><p>When he inquired more about Bunnymund’s abrupt errand, Elsa’s face hardened, her pools of blue glinting like shards of ice. “Rebels,” she answered stiffly. “They’ve ransacked the fields outside the village.”</p><p>Jack hung his head, bracing his hands on his hips. The feeling he vaguely recognized as guilt twisted his insides and made it difficult for him to meet her gaze. Why did he suddenly feel so ashamed? He was never the one who took charge of Burgess—it was always either Bunnymund or St. North, and in some occasions Toothiana. Despite holding the title, he never actually practiced <em>his</em> authority over <em>his </em>land, and it was a truth universally acknowledged by <em>his</em> court, <em>his</em> people. He knew to his very core that he was nowhere near ready despite the four years’ worth of training and lessons he had, and hence had always shied away from the tedious responsibilities that came with his lordship.</p><p><em>Is this why you chose me, old man? </em>he thought bitterly, eyeing a portrait of the late Tsar on the library wall that seemed to smile knowingly at him. <em>A cowardly, irresponsible, clueless legatee... are you turning in your grave yet?</em></p><p>“Where did Bunnymund leave you?” she asked, pulling him back from the brink of another existential crisis. She sat on one of the wingback chairs in the room, brushing a wayward strand of pale hair behind her ear, a timely distraction; he found himself idly wondering how soft her hair would look if it were freed from the unforgiving updo she always wore.</p><p>“King Runeard, I think,” he answered, smiling sheepishly at the look of surprise that flitted across her face. He shrugged and leaned his hip against the edge of the table, crossing his arms in front of his chest in nonchalance. “Bunnymund thought that I ought to know more about my betrothed’s history, as was proper for a gentleman like me.”</p><p>With a loud thud of his shoes, he stood at attention with his back arched exaggeratedly and tweaked the tip of his imaginary mustache, pouting his lips for the full foppish effect. The act elicited a string of soft laughter from Elsa. “And what about King Runeard, good sir?” she asked playfully.</p><p>“Well, we already covered his earlier years. Bunnymund mentioned a dispute with the Nortundra—”</p><p><em>“Northuldra,” </em>she corrected.</p><p>He clicked his tongue. “Ah, yes. That’s the one.”</p><p>“Very well, then.” Jack took his seat and Elsa began, “The Northuldra are an indigenous people who live deep within the forest lands past the North Mountain, where they worship nature and its spirits: earth, fire, water and air. Runeard, who was king of Arendelle at the time, was a superstitious man. He believed that the Northuldra’s rituals and beliefs made them feel powerful—in his own words, ‘powerful enough to defy the will of a king’. So he sought to destroy them.</p><p>“Of course, he had to have probable cause to, and it was difficult because the Northuldra are a peaceful people. He knew that he had to make one up, so under the pretense that it was a gift of peace, he ordered a dam to be built in the Northuldra lands to strengthen their waters.”</p><p>“What’s so wrong about that?” asked Jack. Already he preferred Elsa over Bunnymund as his tutor—she didn’t scoff at his ignorance, as he’d come to expect of Bunnymund. “It was a ruse,” she explained patiently. “If the dam were built completely, it would have actually cut off the Northuldra’s main supply of water, not strengthen it. They would have to turn to Runeard, which would in turn assert his power.”</p><p>She looked down at her hands as she continued, “A year after its initial construction, a celebration was held in the Northuldra lands to commemorate the peace. Runeard was there, with his son, the prince—and a sizeable army. He somehow managed to convince his people that the Northuldra were going to lead a mutiny against them because they resented the dam’s construction and wanted to keep their land and all its resources to themselves. It was another lie; the chief actually wanted to speak to Runeard in private about the dam after learning how it might drastically affect his tribe. He pleaded Runeard to stop the construction.”</p><p>Jack felt his stomach twist in a dreadful knot. “Well? Did he?”</p><p>Elsa exhaled a heavy breath, and shook her head. “Runeard killed the chief, then blamed <em>him</em> for attacking first. The Northuldra were caught off guard, but they managed to fight back. The ceremony became a vicious bloodbath—hundreds of Northuldra and Arendellian men slaughtered, Runeard among them. Those who survived only barely escaped.”</p><p>“What of the prince? Did he live?”</p><p>He must have sounded like an eager little boy because the side of Elsa’s lips turned up in amusement. He cleared his throat again and tried to straighten his face. “Oh, yes,” she answered. “The young prince was saved by a girl from the tribe.”</p><p>The corner of her lips curved in a small smile as she continued, “He fell in love with her, but he did not discover that she was Northuldra until he offered her his hand in marriage because at the time, he was determined to avenge his father. Out of his anger and grief, he poured himself over the dam’s creation for years. This drove the Northuldra deeper into the woods, pushed further and further back by Arendellian forces. But that did not stop the Northuldra woman from making him see the wrong that Runeard committed and that he now had the chance to rectify. When he realized that the woman he loved—the woman who saved him—was Northuldra, he called his armies off. Instead of continuing the dam’s construction, he called for its demolition and allowed the tribe to reclaim their lands.”</p><p>Jack whistled loudly. “What happened to the prince and the Northuldra woman?” he asked.</p><p>“They married, of course,” she told him brightly. “Their union sealed the peace between the Northuldra and Arendelle. Together, they ruled the entire kingdom of the North. From their love came two girls, princesses of Arendelle. One of them is set to marry some white-haired hellion of a lord, I hear.”</p><p>She looked at him expectantly; he perked up as the pieces fell into place. “Runeard was your grandfather,” Jack said.</p><p>Elsa nodded, rubbing her arm in slight discomfiture. “His part in my family’s history, and therefore his role in my kingdom’s history, is not something I am very proud of,” she admitted. “I’m only grateful that my mother was able to knock enough sense into my father to make him see past his perpetual fear of the unknown—which he seemed to inherit from Runeard, now that I think of it.”</p><p>Jack tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. “Is that why you closed the gates?”</p><p>He should have kept his mouth shut.</p><p>Elsa’s face, which was formerly bright and open, fell back into the cool set of her jaw and hard line of her pursed lips. Her eyes, now void of emotion, darkened subtly. After a long pause, she finally spoke. “Yes… and <em>no. </em>It’s a long story, and perhaps a lesson for another time. This bit about Runeard was dense enough as it is. I hope you glean from it what I did when I first heard of it.”</p><p>She stood with tense shoulders, her back ramrod straight as she briskly moved to exit the room. “And what did you take away from it?” he blurted out. <em>You just cannot keep your mouth shut, can you? </em>a voice in his ear leered. Elsa hesitated, her hand poised on the door handle. He looked at her expectantly, but she did not look at him when her reply came in a grim whisper.</p><p>“Fear <em>is</em> the enemy. It was what blinded Runeard, and it is what continues to blind my father to this day. If I’ve learned anything from them, it is that <em>fear</em> is what cannot be trusted.”</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Keep it together.</em>
</p><p>She wrung her hands violently at the jarring sound of clashing notes. It was the third time her finger had missed the correct key—the pesky little note was right <em>there</em> in the middle of the keyboard, and yet it kept magically escaping her reach whenever its part drew near. Elsa hit it repeatedly with her ring finger in frustration, took a steadying breath, and started the piece from the top.</p><p>
  <em>Control it.</em>
</p><p>Control <em>what,</em> exactly? She had already mastered the art of hiding her true emotions. The burdens she carried as a child—the self-loathing and anxiety that continued to terrorize her—had never seen the light of day since the gates were closed, locked in the fortress that was her heart. Then how come the villainous story of Runeard spilled easily from her tongue? Had the days of sharing quiet company made her feel more open in Jack’s easy presence? It was possible, she thought—God in heaven if she was really being honest with herself, he was a silver of light that penetrated through the thick wall of thorns that she had trapped herself in. And despite having convinced herself that <em>that </em>was where she belonged, she clung on to that light, yearned for more of it, and started bringing down the walls that had kept her hidden for so long.</p><p>It felt so easy to just <em>let it go </em>around Jack that it frightened her. Eventually all her walls would be brought down, and what would be left was the secret she had kept locked away in the deepest and darkest of dungeons in her fortress. What would he think of her then, if he knew what she had done?</p><p>
  <em>Don’t feel.</em>
</p><p>She missed the middle key. Again.</p><p>The discordant noise was enough to break her from her reverie; she pushed herself back from the instrument, the legs of the wooden bench she sat on scraping against the floor. Elsa’s breaths came quick and shallow as she braced both hands on the edge of the keyboard. She sighed and pressed the heels of her palm against her closed eyes until she saw multicolored spots dance in her vision. Carefully—and albeit blindly—folding the fallboard over the keys, she hunched over the pianoforte in agony and groaned.</p><p>“Ah, am I interrupting a quarrel with your beloved pianoforte?” asked Jack. She startled at his teasing voice; caught in the downward spiral of tangled emotions, she was alarmed to see that he was barely a pace away from where she sat. Her hand flew to her chest to calm her drumming heart, and when her pulse slowed down, she managed to reply, “Blame the antique—it was insistent on being uncooperative.”</p><p>Jack chuckled, the sound that resonated from his chest deep and hearty. He was still in just his vest and shirtsleeves, and she forced herself not to gape at the breadth of his shoulders that subtly tapered to a narrower waist. He sat on the bench beside her and produced a small plate. “I managed to sneak this one out of the kitchen before Philippa shooed me out,” he said cheekily.</p><p>Her eyes widened at the sight of the small brown dessert. “Chocolate pudding!” she gasped in delight, her earlier worries momentarily forgotten as she eagerly took a large bite out of the treat. Elsa wedged her lower lip in between her teeth to prevent the unholy moan that wanted to escape her lips. The taste was exquisite, enough to rival the ones she had back home. She blushed as Jack watched her with an amused glint in his ice blue eyes.</p><p>“Forgive my sudden change in mood earlier,” she said after swallowing the last of the pudding. She used the tip of her index finger to dab at the corners of her mouth, knowing that there would be leftover crumbs. On his lap, Jack’s hand twitched. “The story behind the decade-long isolation of the palace is not one that I am inclined to share just yet.”</p><p>“I know,” he answered. “And I understand. In fact, it is I who should be seeking your forgiveness, for being too forward earlier.”</p><p>“So, the pudding was a peace offering?” she teased lightly, raising a questioning brow at him. Jack put on his most innocent face and just shrugged. There was only enough space on the bench for them and the voluminous mound of skirts in the space between them. She folded her hands on her lap, turning them over so that she could inspect her palms. She had such dainty little hands, with long fingers that tapered to perfectly shaped oval nails. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him watching them as well. Elsa found their shared silence comforting, though it buzzed with unfamiliar tension.</p><p>“Indulge me, my lord—I need the distraction,” she said abruptly, stuttering a bit as she snuck him a glance.</p><p>Looking up at him was a mistake. Keen blue eyes met hers with a startling intensity, and she felt heat surge up to her face and pool in her chest. Yes, a distraction would be nice; her thoughts were too loud and her skin prickled at the electricity that passed silently between them. “When you’re not terrorizing Bunnymund or the housemaids, what do you enjoy doing? That is, in my case I have my music—what’s yours?”</p><p>The question seemed to catch him off guard. He paused, tilting his head to the side and placing his fingers under his chin. The way his head was turned allowed her eyes to follow the sharp, strong line of his jaw, and she noticed that his cravat loose enough to expose a bit of the pale skin of his neck. Elsa bit her lip and suddenly found the gold trim that lined the ceiling very interesting.</p><p>“I could tell you,” Jack answered at last. “But it’s better if I <em>showed</em> you instead.” He rose to his feet, turning to leave. She remained seated on the bench, waiting patiently for him. His excitement was contagious; she felt her own bubble within her chest. Jack turned on his heel as if he had just remembered something, then without a word he took her hand in his and hauled her from the pianoforte, out the door and up the stairs.</p><p>“Give me a few days to arrange the logistics, my dear,” he added. Her heart fluttered at the endearment, as it had the very first time she heard it from his lips. They were nearing her bedroom now, and when they arrived at her door, he swiftly ducked his head to plant a kiss on the back of her hand.</p><p>“You are going to <em>love </em>this.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: Uploads from now on might slightly take longer than a week because life has conveniently interrupted my daily writing schedule. Hope you all understand and I will try my best to update this story whenever I can!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sun had barely risen when Elsa awoke to loud, continuous knocking on her door. Her eyelids were still heavy, and it took her a tremendous amount of effort to peel one eye open. “Leave me!” she shouted in annoyance, turning over to her side and burying her head beneath her pillows. Being the insomniac that she was, sleep was rarely ever given the chance to fully embrace her and drag her to its depths. Even rarer was the occasion that her nights had pleasant dreams, and last night had thankfully been dreamless; it was a good change from the nightmares that usually followed her in sleep.</p><p>This unfortunately meant that the person who not only persisted their knocking but also increased its volume and tempo was about to get a <em>real</em> piece of her mind.</p><p>In an explosion of bedclothes she rose and, slightly swaying from the sudden rush of blood to the head, stormed towards the door, making it <em>very </em>known that she was not at all pleased at the disturbance. “What on earth—?” she snapped, quickly silenced by the sight of Jack with his fist raised in the air mid-knock. He froze as well, eyes blown wide and mouth agape. Dressed in only a thick wool nightdress with her hair tangled in a loose braid, she felt his gaze travel down to her bare toes painstakingly slowly, then back up to her face in a way that sucked the air right out of her lungs. For all she knew, she must have looked like a swamp hag, but the expression on Jack’s face as well as the bright red flush on his cheeks indicated that he thought otherwise.</p><p>His eyes locked with hers, and she was instantly drowned by the intense scrutiny of those pools of blue. Past the initial shock, Elsa saw yearning in those cool eyes, and something more raw and inscrutable behind them. It made her blood sing and her throat dry, made the burning sensation that rushed to her face border on uncomfortable. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and she did not miss how his pupils dilated as he followed the movement with his gaze.</p><p>Before he had the chance to speak, she shut the door at his face unceremoniously, leaning against the wood to steady herself. Her heart pounded so loudly that she could hear it in her ears, and her face was suddenly ablaze with feverish heat. She shook herself then quickly crossed the room to her washstand and liberally splashed her face with cool water. When the water had cleared the last of the weird dizziness that fogged her brain, she picked up her dressing gown on her way back to the door and wrapped it tightly around herself.</p><p>Jack stood exactly where she left him, his cheeks and ears still slightly pink, mouth snapping closed with an audible click. Now that she was stunned to wakefulness, she saw that he was peculiarly dressed. Gone were the fine coats and embroidered vests, as well as the polished boots for he stood barefooted in a pair of worn trousers that were fraying at the ends, the tattered bits ultimately held together by thin leather straps. His plain brown vest was left unbuttoned, the discolored undershirt peeking through his threadbare cloak. On one hand he balanced a stack of neatly folded garments, all of which were the same drab brown color. She ignored how he kept flexing his free hand, and how a muscle in his jaw was firing. “What are you doing?” she demanded, “More importantly, what are you <em>wearing?”</em></p><p>The command in her voice seemed to bring him back to earth. Jack blinked, then hastily shoved the pile of brown clothes into her arms. “Philippa will be coming up shortly to help you with the fit,” he said mechanically. When she raised her brow at him, he shook his head and exhaled a nervous chuckle, shuffling his feet while running his fingers through his hair. “Just get dressed, princess. We’re getting some fresh air outside—quickly now, we have half a day’s journey ahead of us.”</p><p>Elsa stared at him, then at the assortment of clothes in her arms. “Where are we going?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him in suspicion.</p><p>Jack swallowed, but he managed a crooked, almost apologetic, grin. “Santoff Claussen,” he replied. “We’ll be meeting Ombric there. You remember him from the ball, I assume?”</p><p>“Absolutely not!” Elsa exclaimed, nearly dropping the clothes Jack gave her in panic.</p><p>“Really? Old man, long beard, hair more shockingly white than mine—”</p><p>“No, you daft boy!” she fumed. Jack paused in bemusement. “I meant that I am absolutely <em>not</em> leaving this castle!”</p><p>“Everything has been planned and taken care of. It'll be <em>fun</em>, princess. Trust me.”</p><p>She glowered at the smug expression on his angular face—she wondered if he would still be as smug if she shut the door at him once again.</p><p>“You asked me what I do that music does for you.” He shrugged. “And I <em>really</em> want to show you, if you’ll let me. Please?”</p><p>The sincerity of his entreaty pulled at her insides. Suddenly she wasn’t looking at Jack, with those earnest blue eyes that rendered her unable to argue—she would have done anything he asked her to with those eyes. Suddenly, she was eight years old again, and all she saw in him was little Anna begging her to play <em>outside</em>…</p><p>
  <em>Fear is what cannot be trusted.</em>
</p><p>“Of course,” came her soft reply, just as Philippa emerged from the gloom of the hallway. Jack’s eyes beamed, some of the tension that she had not noticed before visibly leaving his shoulders. The nervous energy he exuded was quickly converted to excitement. “Excellent! Meet me in the stables after you’ve finished. Be quick about it!”</p><p>He bounded down the hall before he could even finish what he was saying, and Elsa was left to suppress the onset of panic that rose in her chest with a soft chuckle.</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>It took him a grand total of three days to persuade his court—two of which were dedicated <em>solely</em> to Mattias—to let him have this little adventure with Elsa. He expected as much; the circumstances were not exactly in his favor, not with the rebels closing in on the borders of Burgess. Even Toothiana, who was normally quick to entertain bonding activities for him and Elsa, vehemently expressed her doubts about this idea. But once he got Mattias onboard, he proceeded to finalize his plan with the rest of his court. Elsa’s safety was still paramount—if only for the reason that she was the crown princess. And his betrothed. Definitely nothing more…</p><p>Working out the route and the security measures they had to take was challenging to say the least. Taking the public commute was not an option, as the coaches needed to change horses at an inn and livery halfway to Santoff Claussen. They would take to travelling on the side road, which was in itself a shortcut already, instead of the main one where the coaches usually made their daylong trip, significantly cutting their journey short by about half the time. This won Mattias over, for in his opinion, the sooner they could get to Santoff Claussen, the faster they could get their business over with, and the quicker they could get back safely. As much as Jack wanted to show her more of the village, he would have to do with the one day he was afforded.</p><p>On the subject of security, traveling the side road with an entourage would definitely still attract unwanted attention. Jack was the one who suggested that they ought to dress as commoners; it worked well for him before, and no one from the village knew what Elsa looked like. It was the perfect disguise, he thought, exceedingly proud of himself for the amount of thought that he put into this venture.</p><p>He whistled as he walked to his horse’s stall and slid the door open, leaning his wooden shepherd’s crook against the inside wall. His mare snorted in greeting and playfully swished her tail. Jack smiled, gently stroking the dapple gray coat of her broad neck. She whinnied affectionately in response, nudging his other hand with her muzzle. “No treats for you yet, girl,” he crooned. Still, the mare stomped her hooves in disappointment.</p><p>He reached over her back across the saddle, adjusting its placement, when a voice spoke behind him. “She’s a fine breed,” she said. He turned and for the second time that day, his jaw dropped at the sight of her.</p><p>Even in the somber clothes that she wore, Elsa still exuded the radiance of a goddess. She wore a simple wool frock the color of coffee, buttoned up at the front over a cream colored blouse that reached up to her chin. The dress, which probably had less than half the skirt volume of her usual attire, did justice to the slender silhouette of her body, revealing the dip of her waist and swell of her hips. The fraying hem reached only a few inches above her ankle, a pair of worn black boots peeking from beneath her skirt.</p><p>“Does she have a name?” Elsa probed. Jack blinked a few times before the question reached his ears. “I call her ‘Wind’. She’s a high-spirited one, and fastest among the other horses, I daresay.”</p><p>Elsa approached Wind, allowing the mare to nuzzle her open palm while her other hand stroked her forehead. “I’m sorry I took so long,” she said with a shy grin, the soft color on her cheeks emphasized to a more vibrant shade by the paleness of her features. “Philippa had to make quite a few alterations on the dress for it to fit properly; I am a lot smaller than I look.”</p><p>Before Jack's eyes could wander over her figure, he quickly busied himself with Wind so that she wouldn’t see how red his face was. The same heat that flushed his cheeks gathered in a pool in his chest as he reached in the satchel where he had packed their overnight clothes—the image of Elsa earlier this morning in her flowing white nightdress, all rumpled and disheveled from sleep, flashed in his mind. He still felt that ineffable tug at his insides that wanted to draw her closer to him, close enough so that he could see the faintest freckles that dusted her cheekbones and each individual strand of her lashes…</p><p>Jack shook his head violently, producing a pair of old kid gloves and a cloak similar to his, ignoring Elsa’s skeptical look. He took a step towards her and swathed her in the thick cloak, fastening the closures at the front with utmost care. This close to her, he felt as though he was holding a little bird in his hands, and that any sudden movement would cause it to flutter away. He felt her warm breath on the back of his hands, smelled the hint of perfume from the sides of her neck. When he was done, he smoothed the cloak over her shoulders and handed her the gloves, standing back to admire his work with a thoughtful hand on his chin. “Something’s not quite right,” he muttered. Elsa did not speak as he circled around her, inspecting the fit of her garments, checking to see if anything was out of place. He looked up to glance at her hair. “Ah.”</p><p>Before Elsa could protest, he swiftly plucked the pin that held her bun in place, her plaided hair falling down the middle of her back. The smell of lavender wafted up to his nose, its intoxicating scent mixed with something uniquely <em>her</em> and he was baffled at how he had never noticed how <em>wonderful</em> she smelled before—</p><p>“Much better,” Jack breathed, nodding his head to clear the lavender scent that clouded his senses. “We’ll eat on the way. I’ve packed as much, as well as spare clothes. Shall we get going?”</p><p>Elsa pulled the braid over her shoulder, nervously fiddling with the ends of her hair. She answered him with a gesture that was a mix between a nod and a shrug. After letting Wind out of her stall, Jack led Elsa to the stall next to his mare’s, where a bay horse was steadily munching on loose hay, ready and saddled. Elsa approached the horse and bared her open palm to him the same way she did with Wind, smiling softly as the horse gave her a slight prod with its muzzle. Jack gave the reins a gentle tug, leading the horse out of the stall; he hesitated. “What is it?” Elsa asked.</p><p>“Nothing,” answered Jack, “You <em>do</em> know how to ride a horse, right?”</p><p>Elsa rolled her eyes at him. “You never cease to underestimate me, my lord.”</p><p>“No offense, princess, but you look like you ride <em>like a princess.”</em></p><p>At that statement, Elsa fixed him with a pointed scowl and huffed indignantly. In one fluid motion, she snatched the reins from him and gracefully swung herself up the horse with little effort, slipping both feet through the stirrups on either side. She readjusted the modest arrangement of her skirt on the saddle then flicked her braid off her shoulder proudly. “Again,” she said, expertly holding the reins in her gloved hands, “You underestimate me.” She dug her heels into the sides of her steed and the horse put on a sudden burst of speed, the sound of its powerful hooves echoing loudly as the ground transitioned from the densely packed soil of the stable to the softer grass of the grounds.</p><p>The side of Jack’s mouth curled up as he grabbed his hooked staff and mounted Wind; the old girl, as if knowing that they were to give chase, galloped after them without so much as a command from Jack. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as the cold, bitter wind nipped at his nose, hollering at the top of his lungs. It had been a while since he last went for a ride; he had almost forgotten how absolutely freeing it felt. With the wind in his hair, he sometimes thought that he was flying, if not for the powerful movement of hooves that carried him. They caught up with Elsa fairly quickly; she gawked at them in surprise, loose strands of hair flitting wildly about her face. “Try to keep up, princess!” he yelled over his shoulder as he and Wind galloped past them. They neared the perimeter of the grounds now, and Jack was way ahead of Elsa at this point. Over the thundering sound of Wind’s hooves, he heard an alarmingly high-pitched neigh behind him. He pulled the reins hard, a task that proved difficult with his staff in one hand. Wind obediently dug her hooves into the ground, upturning the grass as she halted to a stop.</p><p>Elsa’s steed shifted in annoyance at the edge of the grounds, right where the dirt road began. Jack clicked his tongue and beckoned Wind to a slight canter towards her. As he drew closer, he saw Elsa’s eyes, wide and glassy, staring unblinkingly a some point far beyond him, telltale signs of worry plastered on her features: the small crease between her furrowed brow, the shallow breaths that came in and out through slightly parted lips, the rigid set of her shoulders and the white-knuckled grip on the reins. “Elsa?” he said with a gentle tone, getting as close to her as he can. He had only seen that look once before—the moment right before they entered the ballroom for their engagement dance.</p><p>Her gaze shifted to him as if he was her lifeline, round blue eyes bright with fear. The intensity rendered Jack breathless. “I’m scared, Jack,” she whispered, her voice small and her breath a puff of mist dissipating into the air.</p><p>He wanted to scoop her into his arms and hold her close to him.</p><p>“We’re going to be alright. I promise,” he said with an earnest smile. He wished he could reach out and hold her hand. “Do you believe me?”</p><p>In the back of his mind, he felt an odd sense of déjà vu, but the thought slipped from his grasp before he could decipher it. Without hesitation, Elsa nodded. Her resolve made his heart swell to twice its size, he was afraid it would burst right out of his chest. Side by side, they trotted through the thick wood as the early morning sun seeped through the thick canopy above, nothing but the sound of hooves on dirt and the soft thudding beat of his heart.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elsa ought to be frightened of this meandering dirt road they were on. The thick foliage that protected them from peering eyes also obscured everything beyond the treeline on either side. It was also very eerily quiet, save for the thudding of their horses’ hooves on the ground. Yes, dangers lurked beyond what she could see, but on the contrary, she felt quite at peace. The meek slivers of sunlight that seeped through the canopy of leaves above their heads cast an almost enchanting glow on the path, illuminating the winter mist that partly shrouded it. They’d ridden far and long enough that the memories of her past could not catch up to her quite yet, so there was nothing to distract her from the tranquil beauty that surrounded her at that moment.</p><p>She nibbled on the cold sandwich Jack had brought for her as the horses slowly plodded along. Next to her, Jack was sitting casually on Wind with his knee up on the saddle, having completely abandoned the reins. He'd already finished his meal, and now whistled a jaunty little tune while the end of his wooden staff dragged across the dirt, forming a rough line on the ground next to Wind’s tracks. “Why did you bring that thing?” she asked, curiosity overtaking her. “Wouldn’t it be easier to ride a horse without it?”</p><p>Jack paused, bringing the staff up and laterally placing it on his lap. Upon closer inspection, it wasn’t just a long stick fashioned into a simple staff; it was quite beautifully crafted, the shaft made to resemble the strong, twisted trunk of a tree. Though the first snowfall of winter had yet to come, a light coating of barely visible frost covered its angular hook, seeping into some of the deeper grooves in wood.</p><p>His eyes were downcast as he picked at the varying indents on the shaft. “I don’t know.”</p><p>Both of them fell silent after that. Elsa wondered whether or not Jack already knew that <em>she knew</em>—if he had not known by now, then her own lack of further inquiry made it apparent that she already knew about his past. She would have to come clean and confess to him some day. It would certainly ease her conscience if she did, and a small part of her hoped that Jack would be more comfortable talking about it with her so as to ease his own pain.</p><p><em>Hypocrite</em>, snapped a hissing voice in her head, <em>seeking openness from others while you cannot give it yourself. </em></p><p><em>He does not need know,</em> she countered. <em>Don't let them in. Don't let them see.</em></p><p>The voice laughed maliciously, and she shook her head to rid of the chilling noise that echoed in her ear. She <em>was</em> right, wasn't she? She could tell him only what she wanted him to know—leave the nasty bits of her story out, keep <em>her </em>part in it secret—but the stirrings of guilt twisted her insides at the idea before it could solidify her resolve. <em>Hypocrite. </em></p><p>Would he still want her around if he knew her past in its entirety? She pondered at the question for a while before Jack remarked that they should pick up the pace in order to get to the village before nightfall, and her thoughts flew out of her head like leaves in the wind as they galloped down the dirt road in silence. </p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>They reached Santoff Claussen around mid-afternoon. “Keep up, princess!” Jack called behind him as the small village came into view past the silhouettes of the trees ahead. “If we hurry, we’ll reach them just in time!”</p><p><em>Who’s ‘them’?</em> she wanted to ask, but Wind was relentlessly fast and pretty soon, she and Jack had already made it over the hill. Elsa dug her heels into her horse’s sides, the chilly winter air biting at her already numb face as it put on another burst of speed, its labored breathing filling her ears. She assumed that they were going to stop by in the village; she was excited at the thought of finally getting to walk around on her feet after almost six hours of riding. But Jack did not stop when they reached town. They plowed through the streets, the horses still in full sprint, leaving a trail of startled and cursing villagers in their wake. Elsa did her best to keep her hood up to save herself from embarrassment, but the wind kept knocking it off her head.</p><p>When at last Jack slowed Wind down to a canter, they were approaching a relatively small mansion a little ways outside of the village, its warm red bricks almost entirely covered with swirling ivy. Several chimneys were billowing smoke into the air and, as the sky was covered with grayish clouds, light was spilling through the tall stained-glass windows.</p><p>What struck Elsa the most about the mansion was its asymmetry—some chimneys were stout and others were slender, a few roofs were steeper and more angular than the rest, and the entire bulk of the mansion was gathered on the right side of the lot. It gave the scenery a very whimsical, almost magical feel, which undoubtedly delighted her.</p><p>Wind reared as she proudly tossed her gray head, letting out a high-pitched neigh to announce their arrival. Jack eagerly stepped down from her broad speckled back—still barefooted, Elsa noted—and practically skipped over to her to help her down. She ignored the firm grip of his hands and the warmth of his palms on her waist as she dismounted, and the way their chests brushed when her feet unsteadily hit the ground.</p><p>He gripped his staff in one hand and reached for hers with the other as he led her towards the door. Warmth seeped through her kid gloves as his hand enveloped hers. They had barely stepped a foot on the bottom stair when Elsa heard loud footfalls and a thunderous bang from behind the heavy-looking front doors—which burst wide open to release a small stampede of hyperactive children.</p><p>“Jack! Jack!”</p><p>“You’re here!”</p><p>“You’re back!”</p><p>“We missed you!”</p><p>The chorus of little voices pervaded the air as the miniature army of youngsters rushed down the stairs and tackled Jack to the ground next to her, causing her to jump out of the way with a squeak. “It’s nice to see you too!” Jack guffawed, managing to sit upright at least. “My, my, have you grown! Look at all of you! Hey, get back here—watch out for Wind’s hooves, you little rascal!”</p><p>As she watched, Elsa felt a presence stand behind where she awkwardly hung off to the side. “Your Highness,” Ombric greeted warmly, though it was immediately replaced by a frown at the sight of Jack on the ground with who Elsa assumed were his pupils. “Ah, he always does this—he calls it ‘saving the next generation from my torturous lectures’. I suspect that’s why they love him so much.”</p><p>Elsa chuckled and shook her head. “Please just call me ‘Elsa’, my lord. No one here knows who I am, and I would like to keep it that way,” she replied with a small smile. “I like your mansion. It lives up to, ah, the <em>eccentricity</em> of its resident.”</p><p>“My dear, only you can call me eccentric and still mean for it to be the most gracious of compliments,” Ombric beamed, the familiar twinkle in his eyes shining behind a pair of reading glasses. He still wore his distinct floor-length robes, his hair and beard stark white against the rich dark blue of the fabric.</p><p>The horses had been safely taken away to the stables by one of the servants; though Wind seemed at ease with the little ones running about—Elsa thought that the equine quite enjoyed being lavished with attention—her own steed was less so. Jack walked over to them, two of the children trailing close behind him. “Apologies for disrupting class <em>again</em>, old man,” he said by way of greeting, though his smirk held no shame. Already there was a smudge of dirt on his cheek and a new brown stain on his old shirt. Ombric simply exhaled a huff and waved his hands in defeat. Jack chuckled cheerfully, then turned to Elsa. “Jamie, Sophie, I want you to meet Elsa. Elsa, this is Jamie, and his little sister, Sophie.”</p><p>The young boy, Jamie, blinked up at her with wide brown eyes, his unruly hair falling past his brow. He looked to be not older than ten years old, wearing an unclasped coat that gave way to a half-buttoned vest and a thin, patched undershirt beneath. Elsa noticed that his trousers were several inches too short for him; she wondered whether there was a tailor in the village nearby. She smiled at Jamie and muttered a shy greeting. “Nice to meet you, miss,” he replied courteously. “Come now, Soph. Say ‘hi’ to Jack’s new friend.”</p><p>Something about being called Jack's <em>friend</em> made her heart both sing and fall flat at the same time, but she ignored it.</p><p>Sophie, the younger girl who clung to Jamie’s side, snuck a peak at Elsa’s tall figure from beneath a mop of shockingly blonde hair. Her little fingers curled tightly around the hem of Jamie’s coat, her body partly hidden behind him. Elsa knelt to the ground so that she matched Sophie’s eye level better, and gave her the warmest smile and friendliest wave she could muster. Sophie looked at Jack, then gestured with her hands. It took Elsa a moment to realize that she was signing.</p><p>“Sophie says that you look like one of the princesses in her fairy tale books,” Jack translated. Sophie beamed at him, then at Elsa, before tugging Jamie off to play with the other children.</p><p>“You understand sign?” she asked as she stood, brushing the loose dirt off her earth-colored dress.</p><p>“Oh, yes. Sanderson was a mute, you see.” Jack paused to lean on his staff with his chin resting on the bottom of its crook, watching Jamie and Sophie play hopscotch with the rest of the kids. “He and I… we were very close. Ombric taught me how to sign so that we could communicate better. He died a little over year ago.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she muttered, her gaze shifting to the ground instinctively before she looked at him. “How?”</p><p>“Rebels. In the village. He was a good man.”</p><p>“God rest his soul,” Ombric added solemnly.</p><p>Little Sophie came back, hugging the entire length of Jack’s leg in a trilling burst of laughter. Jack made a show of trying to shake her off, but the little toddler did not seem to budge—which only resulted in Sophie laughing so hard that her face turned as bright red as a tomato. “You’ve an <em>adorable</em> way with kids, my lord,” Elsa crooned with a smirk, shifting her weight to one side and crossing her arms in front of her chest to contain the warmth that blossomed unexpectedly from within.</p><p>“Well, what’s not to love about these little imps?” asked Jack. “The best thing about them is that I am just ‘Jack’ to them. Therefore, they don’t expect anything from me—other than I show up sometimes and let them have a little fun.” With an exaggerated grunt, he finally managed to disentangle the little blonde cherub from his leg. He chuckled as he watched her waddle away with a fistful of Ombric’s robes, dragging the old man over to one of the bushes and picking something up from the ground.</p><p>“It seems that I was right in assuming that you already knew that I wasn’t born into nobility.”</p><p>Elsa stared at him, lips parted in an o-shape. Jack simply shrugged his shoulders, but his eyes demanded an explanation as he angled his body towards her, his wooden staff now resting against his collarbone with his arm lazily slung over it in a drunken hug. The scrutiny in his gaze made her curl into herself and rub her arm apologetically, as if she had been caught by her mother sneaking chocolate back into her room from the kitchens back in Arendelle. “Give me a little more credit,” she scoffed, her tone light and joking. “I partially figured that part out myself. Toothiana only helped me with… well… <em>everything else…"</em> </p><p>Jack picked up on what she implied and nodded his head once, his shoulders sagging. He sighed—not in annoyance, but something more akin to pensiveness. “This feels closer to <em>home </em>somehow, though I don’t remember much,” he admitted in a somber tone. “Sometimes I come here and hope that just <em>being here</em> would help me remember something, <em>anything,</em> about my past.”</p><p>Sympathy pulled at her heart as if it were a harpist’s hands on the strings, gently trying to coax some words of comfort or a couple of earnest notes—but as she opened her mouth to speak, Ombric had finally had enough of the bumbling little boys and girls running to and fro on his front yard. “JACKSON OVERLAND FROST!” Ombric bellowed, his robes swirling as he spun towards to Jack, spindly hands on his hips. “You wrangle this lot <em>right this second or I will drag you by the ears into the nearest classroom!”</em></p><p>Jack flinched and made a sour expression, sucking air through his teeth. “Excuse me, my dear,” he said sheepishly, stepping back to bow with a flourish. “Distract Ombric for me, will you? The poor man will likely have an aneurysm from all this madness.”</p><p>“As you wish,” she replied heartily, curtsying back with a smile. Jack flashed her a grin and winked before rushing off to the group of fledglings, standing amongst them with his staff over his shoulders like a shepherd with his flock.</p><p>A resigned Ombric walked exhaustedly to where she stood. “Quite a handful, aren’t they?” he muttered, a tired smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Elsa exhaled a breath and shrugged sympathetically. “Why do you take them in, then? Do they not have schools in the village?” she asked, following the old man up the steps and into the foyer, leaving the door open behind her.</p><p>The entrance hall of Ombric’s mansion was warm and welcoming despite the imposing stone walls, which were covered by multiple portraits of people she did not recognize. The wrought iron candelabra shed light on the dark wooden floors, ceramic vases and other decorative elements displayed on pedestals at intervals between the tall candle trees. They walked slowly down the hall as Ombric explained, “Most of them are orphans, living off scraps on the street. I could not bear to watch them waste away to poverty like that, not when I could give them education, shelter. I started teaching on the streets, then eventually, I opened my doors to them.”</p><p>“Is that how you met Jack?”</p><p>“Ah, no. I met him after Nicholas and the others found him, some time after the late Tsar's death. They asked me to study him, to see if I could find a way to help him regain his memories.” Elsa looked at him expectantly. Ombric only shook his head. “But alas, I did not succeed.”</p><p>Elsa could not help but frown. The end of the entrance hall led to another corridor, the meager afternoon light streaming through the stained-glass windows on her left, just enough to bring life to the multitude of colors on the glass. She was so distracted by the beautiful patterns that Ombric had to clear his throat so that he could beckon her into his study. As soon as Elsa stepped into the room, soft <em>tickings</em> and <em>whirrings </em>filled her ears—the room was so unlike St. North’s forge, which assaulted her senses with the clanging and scraping sounds of wood and metal. Ombric’s study was large and spacious, with two long tables pushed against opposite walls and an even larger worktable dominating the center, all of them cluttered with various instruments, measuring tools and other devices. On her right were a couple of shelves filled with thick books, and a wingback chair in the corner with a small desk and lamp beside it.</p><p>Elsa took a turn about the room, trying to discern where the little noises came from—some of the devices emitted puffs of smoke every now and then, while others looked vaguely similar to an alchemist’s glassware set with mysterious bubbling liquid within. “The interior of the house is as curious, if not more so, than its exterior,” she complimented. She moved to pick up a silver box with beautiful and swirling repoussage on the edges. When she inspected the box from all angles, she heard some of its contents shift inside. “May I?” Ombric asked.</p><p>Elsa handed him the box and when he opened the lid, a silver rabbit with a basket in one hand popped up from the box. The inside of it was designed to look like a prairie, with tall grass and a painted background of the sky. With thin, slightly trembling fingers, Ombric took a small colorful egg from the basket and placed it in the rabbit’s other outstretched hand. The small toy whirred and clicked to life, hopping thrice in place with the egg in its hand until it dropped the egg behind a patch of grass. The toy whirred again, and the egg reappeared through the bottom of the rabbit’s basket.</p><p>“It’s beautiful,” she said in wonder. Ombric chuckled, closing the lid and replacing the box on the table. “It’s for little Sophie. She’s quite fond of the Easter Bunny, ever since Jack told her stories about him.”</p><p>An idea formed in her mind, one that made her head perk up in attention and heart flutter like a hummingbird’s wings. “And Jack? What was he fond of?”</p><p>The old man hesitated, scratching his bearded chin. “I seem to recall that he liked puzzles,” Ombric finally answered. Elsa beamed excitedly. He squinted at her quizzically, though his eyes seem to shine brighter than before.</p><p>“How long will it take you if you made something for me?” asked Elsa.</p><p>“It depends on what you want to have made, Your Highness. What is it that you had in mind?”</p><p>In response, Elsa grabbed the nearest piece of paper and a pencil, then began to draw and detail her request to Ombric.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: This was a quick write because I'd originally planned this to be included in the previous chapter... but then it would be too long in my standards so I decided to split this part into two chapters. Most of this had already been written and was just in need of final editing :) Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dinner at Ombric’s mess hall was… well, a <em>mess.</em></p><p>It was really loud and bits of food were flying everywhere—Elsa only <em>just </em>manged to dodge a spoonful of porridge scant seconds before it hit her forehead. These kids couldn’t seem to stay put in one place, even to eat; some took a few bites then began to roam the room, coming back to their plate only when their mouths were empty. She sat at a table with Ombric, Jack, Jamie and Sophie. The little girl was animatedly telling Jack something with the wild gestures she made with her hands. Having relearned sign language earlier with Ombric, she now picked up a few of the words Sophie was trying to convey. Ever so often, Jack would remind her to slow down because her little hands couldn’t quite keep up with her thoughts.</p><p>Jamie, who was seated beside her, asked, “How did you become friends with Jack?”</p><p>Elsa looked at him and then at Jack, who was too busy chatting with Ombric to notice. What should she say? <em>We became friends because we didn’t have a choice for we are to be wed—</em>no! Jamie waited patiently for an answer, stuffing food into his mouth until his cheeks puffed like a chipmunk’s. “I… I live in his castle, temporarily,” she answered slowly. “He’s been a rather <em>nice </em>host.”</p><p>“Oh! So you’re from Burgess, too?” he asked, an excited gleam in his eye. Elsa laughed as porridge dribbled down his chin from his half-full mouth, and she shook her head in response. “My home is very, <em>very,</em> far from here.”</p><p>Jamie made an effort to swallow, wiping his chin on his sleeve as he did. “My family used to live in Burgess. But when father passed, mother moved us here,” he explained. “But then she also got ill, so now we live with Ombric.”</p><p>The casualness in Jamie’s tone made her wonder how young he was when he and Sophie were orphaned. Elsa managed a comforting smile and turned back to her plate only to discover that her appetite had gone.</p><p>After supper, Jamie took her by the hand and led her to a commodious parlor, telling her more stories on the way about how he and Sophie searched for Easter eggs last spring. The roaring fireplace bathed the room in warmth and orange light, and she settled herself cozily on one of the wing armchairs by the hearth. Ombric sat across from her as Jack took center stage on the floor, making shadow puppets on the walls and having the children guess what animal he was making. Elsa couldn’t help but smile endearingly as she watched him, all smiles and bright eyes ever since they got here. He radiated a happiness and freedom that she had never felt before, and like a drug, it was addictive as it was contagious. Despite her initial discomfort, she had grown more relaxed and even got around to entertaining the kids with shadow puppets of her own. It turned into some sort of competition between her and Jack, and their young audience gave them points based on the creativity of their shadow puppeteering.</p><p>Jack won, of course. But Elsa found that she didn’t mind losing, laughing happily as she leaned back on her chair.</p><p>“Tell us a story!” Jamie suddenly pleaded with wide brown eyes, excitedly jumping up and down next to her.</p><p>“Oh, yes! Please, Elsa!”</p><p>The children’s cacophonous entreaties drowned her polite protest and made her squirm by the fire, clutching the throw pillow shyly to her chest. Biting her lip, she looked to Jack for assistance. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, bouncing little Sophie on his knee. Seeing him among the pleading little cherubs was both out of place and weirdly befitting for him; it was as if his childish demeanor had the ability to morph his appearance into his younger self.</p><p>When Jack gave her an encouraging nod, with his thin lips curled upwards, she finally gave in and said, “Alright.”  As if on command, the children sat on the carpet near her feet, multiple eyes reflecting the orange light from the fireplace as they blinked up at her expectantly. Elsa swallowed rather audibly.</p><p>“There… there was once a princess and her younger sister, who lived in an enchanted forest far away.” Her voice quivered with nervousness, and she paused and stuttered more than usual. For all her grace and composure, she was still quite a bumbling mess in front of an audience, even if they were just little kids.</p><p>“The princess possessed a magic that gave her power over ice and snow,” she continued, her confidence building up as she watched her audience’s eyes widen in wonder. “She made it snow for her beloved sister, froze the lake for them to skate on, and built tiny snowmen that came to life to play with them. She used her powers to do whatever it took to make her sister happy.</p><p>“But late one night, her sister awoke and wanted to play in the snow. The princess did not want to, but her sister insisted. So they left their palace, and wandered deep within the forest and played and played and played…”</p><p>Her voice faltered slightly in the end. A vice seemed to close around her throat, drowning the sound that desperately wanted to escape as a sob. Her insides fluttered as if she were teetering on the edge of a great cliff. There was a gentle tug at the hem of her skirt. Jamie asked, “What happened next, Elsa?”</p><p>She blinked at the boy by her knee, and shook her head against the memories that clouded her train of thought. “Her sister met a terrible accident—she fell from a great height, and the princess tried to save her with her magic, but she was so frightened that she slipped on ice and hit her sister instead. Imbued with ice magic, her sister slowly turned into an ice sculpture. The princess did not know what to do.”</p><p>The collective gasp of sadness from the litter stabbed her right through the heart, but she kept her voice even, forcing every ounce of theatrics she could muster into her words. “Luckily, a family of rock trolls lived nearby. They heard the princess’ cries, and rushed quickly to help. The eldest troll used his own magic to reverse the spell and thaw her sister’s frozen body.”</p><p>“What happened next?”</p><p>“Did they fall in love?”</p><p>“Did it work?”</p><p>“Did her sister <em>die?”</em></p><p>Elsa paused, unsure of how to proceed. The vice around her throat clamped down the rest of her words mercilessly. Her chest felt heavy, her palms moist with sweat. Of all the stories, she <em>had</em> to pick that one. The memories that she had left in the dust on her way here came rushing back;  she had lost her balance and was now falling down the cliff, crashing into the water as the memories came in waves, as did the pain that always accompanied them, drowning her until she couldn’t breathe. <em>Stupid, stupid, stupid.</em></p><p>“Nope!” Jack exclaimed, surprising the children and breaking her from her reverie. “She woke in surprise and thanked the trolls for their service—oh, and they lived happily ever after!”</p><p>The children groaned at Jack, complaining that they wanted to hear more about the princess and her sister from Elsa, not him. “That was a riveting story, Your H—<em>Elsa,</em>” Ombric remarked, and though his round of applause was convincing, his eyes were crinkled in concern. The old man clapped once—very loudly—and exclaimed, “Now, to bed with all of you! Before an angry snowman nips at all of your teeny tiny noses!”</p><p>The children were quick to get up and leave the parlor, shrieking and squealing all the way up to their rooms, completely oblivious to the silent inner turmoil that froze Elsa in place. Ombric cradled a sleepy Sophie in his arms and left the room after the loud footfalls that echoed around the mansion faded, closing the door behind him with a soft click.</p><p>She was left alone with Jack in the parlor whose walls now seemed to close in on her, robbing her of speech and breath. After a few moments of unbearable silence, Elsa finally stood and busied herself with rearranging the throw pillows on the couch and smoothing the rumpled carpet. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Jack quietly asked, “How did the story end?”</p><p>Elsa sighed. She sat on the couch, resting her forearms on her knees as she stared into the dying flames in front of her until her vision danced with colors. “They went home, safe and sound. But the princess… the princess was not the same. Stricken with grief over what she had done—and what she could have <em>almost</em> done—and for fear of her growing powers, the princess locked herself away from her sister, to keep her safe. She stayed isolated from the world for a long, <em>long, </em>time.”</p><p>Another stretch of silence. With no other noise in the room aside from the occasional pop of wood in the grate, Elsa imagined that she could hear the beating of Jack’s heart. It was incredibly comfortable, that steady rhythm—quite unlike the frantic flutter of her own. “You were the princess, weren’t you?” he said slowly.</p><p>Elsa did not reply. She looked away from the fire when she felt the burning onset of tears, lest Jack see the reflection of years of shouldered pain in them. She focused her gaze instead on her hands, on the speck of dirt under one of her nails, on the way her fingers tapered towards the ends. She belatedly realized that her hands were trembling, so she clasped them together with her fingers interlocking tightly. She’d already fallen off the edge and drowned in her own sorrow—she might as well let it go. “We were young,” she murmured under her breath. Jack edged closer to her, leaning forward slightly. Elsa took a deep breath. “One night, Anna wanted to play outside in the snow. I didn’t deny her—I couldn’t. I had always wanted a sibling, and when she came along, I indulged her every whim.”</p><p>Her throat burned as if she had swallowed one of the coals in the fireplace. She was nauseous, and the pounding in her temples threatened to make her faint. Jack listened patiently, his keen blue eyes only ever leaving her face to watch how she had begun fidgeting with her hands. Elsa saw his hand twitch again, but this time he did not suppress the intention behind it—he reached for her interlocking fingers and steadied them with his hand, giving them a gentle squeeze. <em>It’s alright, </em>he seemed to say. <em>I’m right here. I’m listening.</em></p><p>Jack’s thumb traced lazy, comforting circles on the back of her hand that made her want to curl and melt into his side. Instead, she cast him a glance and gave him a small smile. “So we went to the courtyard. I’d gone back inside to get some briquettes and a carrot for our snowman, but when I came back, Anna was gone.</p><p>“She’d somehow managed to open the gates.” Her voice broke at the end; it was a miracle that she could manage even the slightest sound for her throat had closed up completely. “We looked for her for hours until a group of passing Northuldra arrived at the palace and brought her home. They said that they found her with a pair of thugs and that she was unconscious from the cold, but was otherwise unhurt.</p><p>“My father closed the gates the very next day. Anna was too young to remember a thing, but I wasn’t. I remember all of it. None of that would have happened if I didn’t let her out. She wouldn’t have been kidnapped and hurt. <em>It’s all my fault,”</em> she wailed softly, burying her head in her hands to afford her some modesty as her entire body wracked with sobs.</p><p>Though she didn’t mean to, she flinched when Jack shifted his position from sitting beside her on the couch to kneeling on the floor in front of her, his hand still covering hers while the other gently rubbed her shoulder. “No one could have known what would happen—” he began.</p><p>Elsa sucked in a raspy, shaking breath. “But I should have—”</p><p>“—and neither could you.”</p><p>Jack could feel how deep her self-loathing ran, how heavily her shoulders sagged under the crushing weight of years-long guilt; she knew it. Elsa stopped sobbing—stopped breathing, more like. “Elsa, look at me,” he said, his voice deep and soft still. The hand on her shoulder slowly moved up her neck, past her braided hair, and caressed the curve of her jaw, forcing her to tilt her head up to look at him. He brushed a tear away with the pad of his thumb. Embarrassed as she was about the snot dripping from her nose and the puffiness of her eyes, the moment Jack’s fierce blue gaze locked with hers, and when he whispered the words with absolute conviction, she came apart.</p><p>
  <em>“It wasn’t your fault.”</em>
</p><p>Elsa got up and stiffly ran out of the room, stumbling blindly into the hallway. The awful keening noise she was making would have roused the entire household, but she didn’t care. She needed to be alone. She needed to <em>hide.</em></p><p>
  <em>Don’t feel. Don’t feel. Don’t feel.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It wasn’t your fault.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>DON’T FEEL.</em>
</p><p>The warring voices in her head caused her vision to darken even more, which was already blurred by a second bout of tears. She threw open the first door she found and shut herself in behind it, shut the voices out, sinking to the floor as waves upon waves of tears cascaded down her cheeks.</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>Ombric poured two snifters of brandy as Jack paced the length of his study, ranting profusely after telling Ombric what Elsa shared with him, and how she reacted after. He felt like it wasn’t his story to tell, but if he was to know what to do, he had to explain to Ombric. If he had his staff with him, it would have been wildly twirling about his hands right now—but the last time it was in this room, it snagged on a bottle of curious liquid that Ombric said would have made the room explode if he had not caught it before the glass hit the floor.</p><p>“I don’t understand, Ombric,” he groaned in agitation, running both hands through his hair and locking his fingers on the sore joint at base of his neck. “How could she not understand that it wasn’t her fault? There was no way she could have known what was going to happen then!” When he came back around, Ombric was holding his glass out for him. Jack took it gratefully and leaned against one of the worktables as the older man took a seat in his reading chair.</p><p>“She was young. She thought that the unfortunate chain of events started when she let her sister play outside. Of course she’ll believe that the fault lies with her,” Ombric reasoned, swirling the liquid in the glass contemplatively.</p><p>Jack downed his glass in one swift gulp, the liquor burning a line down his esophagus and spreading warmth through his tense muscles. “What should I do?” he muttered hoarsely.</p><p>Ombric stroked his beard, curiosity alight in his eyes. “Is that <em>concern</em> I hear, boy?”</p><p>“What—”</p><p>“Do not play the naïve with me. You cannot deny that lot has changed since you stopped sending me those blasted ranting letters,” Ombric teased. “I had reason to believe that your relationship with the future queen was no longer platonic then—but now, as you pace in my study and ask me for guidance, I believe that my suspicions are confirmed.”</p><p>Jack pushed himself off from the edge of the table, wringing his arm in a gesture of annoyance and impatience. “Can I not be concerned for someone I consider a <em>friend?</em> Maybe you’ve forgotten but she’s to be <em>my wife </em>as well! What sort of partner would I be if I do not know how to be there for her?” He had begun pacing again, much to Ombric’s amusement. “Who am I if I cannot support her, even in the least regard? If I cannot share this burden on her shoulders?”</p><p>“Oh, my boy,” said Ombric, a knowing twinkle in his eye. “You still have a lot to learn from one another, and a lot more to <em>teach </em>to one another.”</p><p>Jack paused in the middle of the room as Ombric explained, “Her past plagues her mind just as yours do to you—how would <em>you</em> want someone to help you?”</p><p>He sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. After having a second glass of liquor to calm his mind, Ombric ushered him out of the study, telling him that his old room had been prepared for him, as well as the adjacent room for Elsa. As he made his way up the stairs after bidding the older man good night, he pondered at his words of advice. <em>But we’re different, </em>he wanted to argue. <em>She remembers everything. I remember nothing. I can’t be helped.</em></p><p>“But that doesn’t mean that she should suffer the same fate,” he murmured to himself. The image of Elsa’s face streaked with tears flashed in his mind’s eye, and once again he was dumbfounded at the tortured soul reflected in those wide, frightened pools of blue, one that hid behind a fortress of ice to shield herself from the world. Monsters were locked up, but Elsa was no monster. If only she could see as <em>he </em>sees. If only he could show her what <em>he </em>saw whenever he looked at her.</p><p>The sight of Elsa in such anguish would be permanently etched in his memory. He would do everything in his power to never again see the pain she bore in that expression.</p><p>Before he retired to his room, he sought to check on Elsa first. He walked past his door and knocked on Elsa’s, gently but loud enough to rouse anyone awake. When there was no response, he twisted the doorknob as quietly as he could, thinking she was already asleep; the door opened, and the room was empty.</p><p>Confused, he went back downstairs, past the parlor and down the dark hallway. He opened the door to Ombric’s library and peered inside. It was cold and dark in the room, the slivers of dim moonlight seeping through the stained-glass windows; he should have brought a taper with him. “Elsa?” he called softly. There was a few seconds of silence before he heard it: the strained inhale of breath, a sound made when air forced its way through a stuffy nose.</p><p>He crept cat-like across the room to the chaise lounge, where Elsa’s curled figure lay hidden in the shadows. Even in the dark, he could see tear tracks staining her rosy cheeks. Her lips were parted slightly, her breaths hissing as she exhaled through her mouth. She was fast asleep, but the crease between her brows remained—not only do the demons of her past invade her present, but they also seemed to haunt her dreams. Jack knelt by her side, brushing loose strands of soft blonde hair from her face, some of which were stuck to her cheeks with tears. He wanted to do something about that crease of worry on her forehead. He wanted to make the bad dreams go away. He wanted to hold her close if it meant that she would sleep without demons tonight.</p><p>He never wanted anything else with <em>that </em>much conviction in his entire life.</p><p>Slowly, he slipped his arms beneath the her knees and her back, careful not to wake her. Elsa was incredibly light; it concerned him a little, but he pushed the thought aside for a moment and focused on the lavender scent of her hair, the warmth and softness of her body against his. With her forehead nestled against the quickening pulse on the side of his neck, Jack quietly exited the library, carrying her up the stairs and into her room with hardly any difficulty. He pulled the covers from underneath her sleeping form without so much as causing her to stir, then gently draped the blanket over her shoulders. Her pesky hair had gotten in her face again; he swept it behind her ear, allowing the tips of his fingers to lovingly caress the smooth skin of her cheek.</p><p>“Good night, Elsa,” he whispered, right before leaving the room and shutting the door quietly behind him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jack woke up later than he’d intended, his sleep disturbed by the the slivers of sunlight slipping through the gap in his curtains. He yawned and stretched loudly, scratching the back of his head as he went about his morning ablutions. The children would wake any minute now. He didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye; he supposed that delaying their leave for breakfast wouldn’t hurt anyone.</p><p>Dressed similarly to what he had worn yesterday, he opened the door to find Elsa standing in the hallway, just as she had shut hers closed. Her hair was pulled into the same braid over her shoulder, though it did not quite catch the shorter strands that framed her face. She wore a loose, long-sleeved dress made of heavy-looking wool check with black lace on the edges of the neckline and cuffs. “Good morning,” she rasped, clearing her throat after she spoke with a discreet cough, an embarrassed blush creeping up to her cheeks. She averted her gaze to the floor, but not before Jack saw how swollen her eyes were.</p><p>“I thought that we could have breakfast here before we left.” He ran his fingers through his hair awkwardly before quickly adding, “But if you prefer to leave right away, I’d understand.”</p><p>“Breakfast sounds lovely,” answered Elsa, though her tone was still somber and her smile was brittle. They walked side by side as they descended the stairs in silence, the soles of Elsa’s boots echoing loudly against the wood. He would have offered her his hand if he had the courage to; he wanted to let her know that he was <em>there. </em>But Ombric’s advice resonated with him. If he were in her shoes, he wouldn’t have wanted anyone to feel <em>forced</em> to care, as if it were only out of obligation<em>. </em>He would have wanted space, and time to feel better first. So, he would wait. She could take all the time in the world, and he’d still be here. He would be patient for her.</p><p>Just as they reached the last step, Elsa muttered, “I’m sorry.”</p><p>Jack froze. Her eyes were downcast almost as if in shame, her dark lashes sitting atop her puffy cheeks. Her hands, clasped at the front of her skirt, were busy picking at the woolen fabric. She looked like a child who was about to get a good scolding, with her shoulders bunched close to her body to make herself look as small as possible. He could almost picture little Elsa after <em>that</em> night, standing like this in the wake of what happened to her sister.</p><p>“I didn’t mean to react the way that I did last night,” she continued, “You brought me here to show me what gave you joy, and I ruined it.”</p><p>“Don't,” he said, a tad more forcefully than he had meant to—but he wasn’t going to let her blame herself for this again. Elsa flinched at his tone, and he felt the muscles on his face that were twisted into a frown soften. “Don’t apologize, princess. It wasn’t your fault.”</p><p>“But—”</p><p><em>“Elsa,”</em> he grabbed her by the shoulders and gently angled her body towards him, “Nothing was ruined, my dear. I appreciate that you were <em>brave</em> enough to share awful memories of your past with me, and I’m deeply sorry that you had to deal with that for <em>years</em>—but I will <em>not </em>have you blame yourself any more than you already do. You carry a lot on your back, Elsa. I wish to help you with the weight, but you must be kind enough to yourself to <em>let it go.”</em></p><p>At the last words, Elsa looked at him intently, blue eyes searching his own. When had their faces suddenly become inches apart? Her lavender scent engulfed him completely, as did the warmth of her breath as she exhaled through her parted lips. He felt the tension in her shoulders melt away under his hands. Jack could see new tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, but none of them fell, much to his disappointment; he would have wanted to have an excuse to reach up and cradle her face, or have her head buried against the side of his neck as she cried.</p><p>But then they heard loud footfalls from the top stair and they instantly recoiled from one another, quickly making their way to the mess hall without another word.</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>Their farewell was not as tearful as Jack thought. It was the weekend after all, and Ombric explained that for kids, the chilly winter weather and early mornings simply do not typically mix. Jamie, however, knew that they would be leaving today, so he and Sophie, plus a couple of his friends, were already up and expressing their goodbyes.</p><p>Elsa was on her knees again, brushing Sophie’s unruly hair behind her ear and promising that she would come back with more stories next time. The little blonde wailed, completely forgoing her need to sign and throwing herself at Elsa in a fierce hug instead. He noticed that it took a few seconds for Elsa’s shoulders to relax and return the gesture.</p><p>“You’ll be back soon, right?” Jamie asked. He was old enough not to cry and knew that goodbyes did not mean forever, but he frowned and slumped his shoulders nevertheless.</p><p>“Of course I will,” Jack answered, squatting down with his staff against his collarbone and his hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “I’ll visit again before the winter’s over. Now, there <em>is</em> a lot to be done for fun in the winter—will you plan it out for me? Make sure we don’t miss anything when I return.”</p><p>Jamie’s face instantly lit up and he nodded with renewed enthusiasm. He gave Jack one last embrace and stepped back as their horses came into view. They bid farewell to Ombric before Elsa mounted her steed with that easy gracefulness that seemed to be innate with her, readjusting her skirt and the placement of the hood on her head as she waved goodbye. Jack followed suite, and Wind reared once more before they galloped away from Ombric’s mansion, the bitter bite of the winter air rousing him fully awake and chilling him to his bones.</p><p>Most of Santoff Claussen was still asleep; it seemed that Ombric’s earlier observation applied to the rest of the village as well. There were very few people on the streets: delivery boys hurling sacks of flour down a horse-drawn cart, a pair of burly men exiting the local pub after a long night’s revelry. He and Elsa trotted along, the clopping sound of their horses’ hooves on the cobbles echoing loudly throughout the village.</p><p>The sun above was hidden behind a curtain of thick, ominous gray clouds that spanned the entire sky. It made the world seem as though it was approaching nighttime rather than high noon. When they were out of the village and back on the dirt road they had taken to get there, Elsa came up beside him, the tip of her boot grazing the side of his leg. The hard leather tip hurt a little, but he made no comment.</p><p>But then she tapped him with her boot again, this time harder. He threw her an annoyed glance and was about grumble a sarcastic remark when she put a finger to her lips, then gestured for him to keep his head forward. Tension knotted in his stomach; he did as he was told, but he kept his gaze on her out of the corner of his eye.</p><p>Elsa raised her hands at chest level so that he could see clearly, and signed, <em>someone follow us.</em></p><p>Jack’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. <em>How many? </em>he signed back.</p><p>Elsa held up two trembling fingers.</p><p>His mind began to race, the gears in his head shifting to overdrive. Just two, probably spies—either for the rebels or the South, but most likely the former. The Southerners wouldn’t dare go this far. Jack couldn’t risk making sure if they were armed by looking behind him, lest they realize that they had already been found out. He had to rely on his other senses; he couldn’t quite hear the other horses’ hooves above their own, so the pursuers must be some distance behind—which might also mean that they had weapons that were long-range, and that they must have good aim otherwise they’d have been closer.</p><p>His heart was pounding wildly against his chest, the edges of his vision pulsating in time with his heartbeat. They could outrun them—they had the advantage of being further ahead. He only had his shepherd’s crook, and he was sure that Elsa did not carry weapons of her own. Running was the only option they had.</p><p>He signed, <em>On the count of three, we run.</em></p><p>He was careful to keep his hands blocked from view from behind, on the off chance that their pursuers might understand sign language. Elsa took a steadying breath beside him, her grip white-knuckled in the reins. Her eyes, wide and frightened, hardened with focus as Jack counted down with his fingers.</p><p>
  <em>3… 2… 1—</em>
</p><p>He dug his heels so hard into Wind’s side that he almost felt sorry for the mare. He lurched forward, thundering hooves blocking the sound of his blood racing in his ears. Elsa followed closely behind him, her hood blown off her head, exposing the creamy blonde of her hair. The men behind him—the pair that left the bar, Jack realized—were quick to give chase, drawing crossbows from their backs as they took aim.</p><p>“Get down!” Jack roared. Elsa leaned forward until she was almost pressed against the back of her steed’s neck just as the first arrow whizzed past the air between her and Jack. She shrieked, urging the horse to run faster. Jack kept his own head down as another arrow flew by his head, missing his hair by a couple of inches.</p><p>The successive firing of arrows frightened Wind, and out of panic the mare put on a sudden burst of speed that left Elsa in the dust. “Steady, girl!” he said, trying to calm Wind down. They turned a sharp bend when he heard the loud cry of an injured horse and another terrified shriek from Elsa.</p><p>He turned Wind around just in time to see the horse—which had been excellently shot through the side as they turned the corner—fall to the ground with Elsa still on its back. She managed to get off the saddle before the fallen horse’s weight could pin one of her legs. Even from afar, he could see the grimace of pain that contorted her face. <em>Oh, God, was she also shot?</em></p><p>He had to get to her. He had to get to her <em>fast. </em></p><p>“ELSA!”</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>Pain shot up her left arm as she landed on the ground. Her wrist had taken most of her fall, since she stupidly did not tuck and roll. Tears stung in her eyes as she bit back a scream, her wrist throbbing. Her whole world was spinning, all the sounds muffled as though she was underwater. All she could hear was her ragged breath and her pounding heart. She could hear Jack calling her name in the background, but he sounded too far away. She could also hear the thundering hooves of the men’s horses behind her, but it was another arrow that narrowly missed her ear that brought her awareness back into her body.</p><p>She would die if she stayed there—a sitting duck right in the midpoint between her salvation and her destruction. Without a second thought, she made a beeline for the trees on the side of the road, clutching her sprained wrist close to her chest to keep it stable and to ease the pain as she leapt over the gnarled roots and rocks beneath her feet, one of her boots falling off in the process. She did not pause for it, ignoring the way her skin crawled with the feeling of dampened earth underneath her bare sole. She could still hear the crunching of leaves and undergrowth behind her, but she did not spare her pursuers another glance. She kept running until her throat was dry and her chest was heaving. The trees deeper in the wood had wider trunks, and she hid herself behind one so that she could catch her breath when she felt like she was far enough.</p><p>Elsa’s limbs shook violently as she tried to steady her racing heart, her breakfast quickly rising to the back of her throat. She doubled over, her good hand braced on her knee as she coughed and sputtered. She needed water, and despite literally gulping down mouthfuls of air, none of it seemed to reach her lungs. She stilled when she heard a noise to her right—still clutching her wrist, she pressed herself flat against the rough bark of the tree, straining her ears for any approaching sound. “Come on out, <em>princess,” </em>one of the men leered. Elsa could not place his throaty accent, but he definitely wasn’t from the North. “We won’t hurt you. Come, show yourself. Don’t be shy.”</p><p>Elsa felt so scared that she was frozen in place, feeling very faint as black spots danced in her vision. Her heart hammered so loudly, she feared that they would hear it. She had to cover her own mouth so that they wouldn’t hear her panting for breath. After a few moments of complete silence, the man let loose an arrow, making her jump slightly at the sound of the mechanism snapping back. The arrow found its mark on a tree trunk, the crunching sound coming from somewhere far enough away on her left—did they think she was hiding there? Would they continue that way?</p><p>She waited for another sound, for their horses’ hooves or another shot, but she couldn’t hear anything above the pounding of blood in her ears. Taking the chance that they would follow the arrow to the left, she pushed off from her hiding place and turned sharply to her right to run—instead she startled the black stallion that was waiting behind the tree. The horse stood on its hind legs and neighed loudly, the sound it made like a monster rising from hell. Elsa backed away from the flailing hooves before they could hit her face, tripping over a twisted root in her haste.</p><p><em>This is it, </em>she thought. She saw every movement as though time itself had slowed—the dark gleaming eye of the demon horse, its rider aiming a crossbow at her heart, his wicked grin all the more malicious with the black patch over his left eye. <em>This is how I die.</em></p><p>Then the world sped up and everything happened so fast that Elsa didn’t fully grasp what just happened.</p><p>Jack appeared out of nowhere, with Wind ramming into the side of the rearing horse, causing both steed and rider to topple onto the forest floor. In that same instant, Jack managed to grab her by the waist with the hook of his staff and pull her up on Wind’s broad back. She now sat sideways across his lap, his arm protectively curled around her waist while the other held his staff at the ready. He expertly twirled it around, hitting the side of the eye-patched man’s face with enough force that the wood should have snapped, knocking the man unconscious.</p><p>He pushed her forward on Wind’s neck and knocked an arrow out of the way with his staff seconds before it found its mark on the side of her neck. Jack pulled at the reins, charging in the direction of the shooter—the second man, who looked a lot like the first but without the black patch on his eye. “Stay down and keep her steady!” Jack commanded, pushing the reins in her injured hand. She yelped in protest, but quickly shifted the reins to her good one.</p><p>The man was still reloading his weapon when they met in the middle—the hook of Jack’s staff caught the man’s throat and snagged him off his saddle as they galloped past, their momentum throwing him against the trunk of the nearest tree. Jack retook the reins and spared no time to get them out of the wood and back on the dirt path at top speed. “Are you hurt?” he asked, yelling slightly over the roaring wind.</p><p>“My wrist,” she whimpered as each galloping stride sent a jolt of electricity up her arm. It was difficult to keep her wrist stable on a running horse; Jack had no intention of slowing down or stopping to inspect it, so she did the best she could not to move her wrist too much.</p><p>They rode through the forest as if the devil himself were at their heels. She fell against Jack on the saddle, the side of her body pressed flush against his chest that she could feel the rhythm of his thudding heart on her upper arm. The warmth that radiated from his body was intoxicating; along with his pulse, it was a suppressant that kept her nerves calm as the adrenaline ebbed. She allowed herself to sink deeper against him, leaning her head on his shoulder as his body heat embraced her like a blanket, slowing the tremors in her limbs that had nothing to do with the cold. She was <em>safe</em> here, in his arms. No one could hurt her here.</p><p>She knew in the back of her mind that the words weren’t necessarily true—that as long as they were on the brink of war, she would never be safe.</p><p>But she held on to the thought for now as Wind galloped down the path, more than eager to carry them both back home.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wind was panting heavily by the time they reached the keep, and the sky overhead had darkened significantly. If it weren’t for the fact that it was winter, Jack would have thought that it would rain. His mare’s strength had greatly waned from the initial adrenaline and fear that made her fly from danger. As far as he knew, they weren’t followed—which was a <em>relief</em>—but Jack did not take any chances. They only slowed when they were safely through the gates of the Burgess keep, Wind’s trotting steps growing heavy and labored. Jack gave her a soothing caress on the neck just as she halted to a stop by the front doors. He dismounted with a grunt, his entire body swaying slightly from riding nonstop for hours. He turned to see that Elsa was still on the horse; he noticed that one of her boots was missing.</p><p>“It’s fine,” she assured him when she caught him glancing at her muddy foot. He nodded and helped her down, careful not to disturb her already swelling wrist. He saw the onset of a bruise peeking from beneath her sleeve, an ugly blackish blue stain on her porcelain skin. A stable boy rushed over to them, and Jack barked a quick command to have Wind immediately fed and groomed. As the stable boy took the mare away, the front doors burst open, erupting in a chorus of angry shouting.</p><p><em>“Where have you been?” </em>roared Mattias, his thick brows knitted together as he bounded down the front steps. Instinctively, Jack stood taller, slightly pushing Elsa's rigid form behind him. “The earlier you get back, the better—<em>that</em> was the deal!”</p><p>“And you’re late,” said Bunnymund in a blunt tone.</p><p>“What happened?” inquired St. North. "What kept you, boy?"</p><p>Jack held his breath; he initially thought that he would have time to at least shower and have Elsa taken care of before being rounded on by his court, but it seems as though the shower would have to wait. Elsa sensed him stiffen, and she edged closer to him, her good hand curling against the crook of his arm.</p><p>Toothiana pushed past the towering men and gasped, “Your Highness, <em>where is your shoe?”</em></p><p>At her exclamation, the atmosphere shifted so quickly from building tension to anxious worrying as Toothiana descended upon them like a mother hen. “We should get inside,” said Jack, effectively cutting off the other voices. “We were followed. Rebels, on our way back. We need to go over securing the keep, and extending patrols to villages as far as Santoff Claussen.”</p><p>He turned to Elsa; she still clung to his arm. She no longer looked quite as dazed as she had been on the ride back, although the pallor of her skin was still apparent. He eased his arm out of her grip and gently pushed her in Toothiana’s outstretched arms. “Help her wash and bathe. Be careful; she sprained her wrist when we were ambushed.”</p><p>Toothiana nodded. Mattias' eye twitched and his lips paled as if he might faint.</p><p>He addressed Bunnymund next. “Stabilize her wrist and give her something for the pain until we can send for the physician.” The older man's bright green eyes flashed, but Jack kept his gaze level. Out of his court, Bunnymund was the least keen on being told what to do, especially by him, but in that moment he did not particularly care for the disrespect. Besides, the treatment was not for <em>him—</em>it was for Elsa. Jack watched Toothiana guide her up the front steps with Bunnymund in tow, wishing he could follow them to make sure that she wasn't hurt, but he knew that it was very unlikely that St. North <em>or </em>Mattias would let him go that easily. Elsa threw him a nervous backward glance before they disappeared through the doors. He might have been mistaken, but it almost looked like she was worried <em>for</em> him.</p><p>Mattias fumed, <em>“Explain.”</em></p><p>Jack gestured to the doors with his staff in an <em>'</em><em>after you' </em>manner. St. North beckoned the furious general back into the keep with a firm, beefy hand on his shoulder, with Jack trailing close behind them. <em>This is going to be a very long day, </em>he thought as he shut the front doors closed.</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>“Command suites him,” Elsa muttered, loud enough for Toothiana to hear from the main room. Philippa was carefully wiping her foot, and the old maid was rambling on and on about counting her blessings as she wasn’t particularly scathed.</p><p>“<em>Recklessness </em>suites him better,” grumbled another voice, a man’s. She heard Bunnymund enter her room, his signature scoff causing Elsa to frown. Philippa helped her with her nightdress and wrapper before taking her leave to fetch her some dinner.</p><p>“He has the propensity for that, yes,” Elsa countered, crossing her room to sit on the edge of the bed. “But he also has potential for something far <em>greater</em> than that.”</p><p>Bunnymund rolled his eyes, accepting the bundle of linen strips that Toothiana handed to him. There was a warning in Toothiana's rare magenta eyes as the two exchanged a glance, but Bunnymund was keen on ignoring it. He was a very tall, lean man, and he loomed over her as he wrapped the linen securely around her wrist, covering the garish bruise that enveloped the entire joint. Elsa asked, “Why do you despise him so? Surely you see something in him, too.”</p><p>“I’ve known that boy far longer than you have, child,” Bunnymund answered grumpily, pinning the end of the strip in place. “While I respect the last wishes of the late Tsar, one does not simply expect an orphan <em>boy</em> to fill his remarkably large shoes. Jack Frost is many things, but he is <em>not</em> a guardian.”</p><p>Elsa narrowed her eyes, glowering up at the older man. “You’re wrong.”</p><p>Bunnymund just huffed, stepping back to a bow before exiting the room without another word. Toothiana frowned after him before she sat on the bed next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Forgive him. He’s always been very skeptical of Jack.”</p><p><em>You all are, </em>Elsa thought bitterly. Admittedly, she had also been rather curious as to why and how Jack would ever become a lord, but during the course of their little excursion, she learned quite a lot about him. They didn’t see what she saw in Jack since they arrived at Ombric’s mansion. They didn’t see what she saw when he came rushing back for her, when he risked his life to save hers just mere hours ago. They didn't see the strength of his resolve the night before when she spiraled out of control. Jack was kind and compassionate, determined to prove himself worthy despite the hole in his life—he was more than just the mischief, more than the orphan boy who sought the answers to his past to feel whole.</p><p>The unfairness of it all made her stomach churn in disgust.</p><p>Toothiana excused herself just as Philippa reentered her room with a tray of food, followed by the physician they had called for her, a small stout man with a pointed face and eyes the color of the amber bottle he prescribed her with. While she ate, she could not help but wonder how Jack was faring against Mattias' wrath. Sleep was far from her reach, so after eating as much as she could of her dinner, she sat at her writing desk and began to write.</p><p>
  <em>Dearest Anna...</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>It was around midnight by the time Jack finally returned to his room, browbeaten and exhausted. After a grueling sermon from St. North and another from Mattias, he’d been excused to go and quickly change clothes, but the rest of the night was far from over. After dinner, he worked with them to strategize additional patrols about the keep and the grounds, and debated on sending spies of their own to the nearest villages to keep an eye on passing rebels. Much to his disdain, Mattias also had him personally write an apology to the King—as if his own grief wasn’t enough punishment. Elsa wasn’t present at the dinner table; he had it in his mind to check up on her and apologize for what happened, but after a very long discussion and a decanter of brandy, all he wanted to do was flop on his bed and sleep.</p><p>He sat at his writing desk, slumping in the chair and resting his elbow on the armrest. His other hand worked to free his neck from the strangling cravat that he had unwisely chosen to wear. Amongst his other unwise decisions, he definitely should <em>not</em> have drunken all that liquor—there was a throbbing in his temples that only increased in tempo as he massaged them with his fingertips.</p><p>Jack almost jumped out of his skin when a pair of hands started knead his shoulders. “Did I startle you?” a playful voice whispered in his ear. He didn’t even hear her come in. He stopped Katherine’s relaxing albeit sensual ministrations by lightly placing his hand over hers, giving the back of one of her hands a light brush of lip. Jack stood from his seat and turned just as she stepped closer to him, their chests within a hair’s breadth of each other’s. It wasn’t the first time he arrived at his room with Katherine waiting, <em>wanting</em>, him, but this time something oddly felt <em>wrong</em>. He knew he was just tired, but he didn’t understand why he was slightly disappointed to see gray instead of blue as he looked into her eyes.</p><p>“It’s been a long day,” he replied sheepishly. Katherine grinned, her hand prying his collar open to expose his upper chest as it trailed up to the back of his neck. She gently coaxed him to lean down and kiss her, lips moving expertly across his own. “I missed you,” she crooned, moaning softly to urge him on. He didn’t reply as she deepened the kiss, pulling him to bed. Just when they were halfway there, he pulled away so suddenly. Something was very, <em>very, </em>wrong.</p><p>It might have been the brandy, but he thought that he just caught a whiff of lavender—not just <em>any</em> lavender scent, but <em>hers</em>. Elsa’s. He pulled away when the scent disappeared, overpowered by the smell of fresh bread and strawberries that lingered on Katherine’s clothes. He shook his head violently. <em>What was in that whiskey?</em></p><p>“What is it?” asked Katherine, the expression in her face mildly hurt.</p><p>He didn’t want to offend her further by saying he was tired or that his thoughts were clouded by a haze of lavender and mint and bright blue eyes so he simply answered, “Not tonight, love.” His voice sounded mechanical even to his own ears, but he managed the silent entreaty in his tone. <em>Lies, </em>he thought; he had never lied to Katherine before.</p><p>“Then let’s do something about that, shall we?” she persisted, her voice dropping huskily, deft fingers quickly prying his vest open. In another time, he would have gladly let her consume him—tonight just wasn’t one of those times. Jack couldn’t explain it other than he just <em>did not </em>want to. He also could not explain why Elsa’s face kept popping up in his mind’s eye, and it did nothing but harden his resolve that he did not want to do this tonight with <em>Katherine.</em></p><p>Speaking of, the little auburn minx was almost done unbuttoning his vest when he took a few staggering steps backward. What was he doing? What was <em>happening </em>to him? He needed space to think, to <em>breathe </em>anything but the notes of lavender that haunted his mind, invaded his thoughts, his very <em>soul.</em></p><p>Katherine's eyes flew wide and were slightly terrified. Without another word, he stumbled out of his room like the graceless drunk that he was, racing down the steps two at a time. Never mind the loud footfalls he made against the wood; he needed to get away from everyone else.</p><p>Was this what Elsa felt that night? Did she also feel as though the walls were suddenly closing in on her, forcing her to face a truth that she had never dared to acknowledge? What truth lay for him at the end of the hallway?</p><p>By the time he reached the drawing room and shut the door behind him, he was panting, but not from the physical exertion he just pulled. His thoughts were too loud, too cluttered, and he just wanted them to <em>stop</em>.</p><p>“Jack?”</p><p>It was a curious, maddening thing—that Elsa’s voice would be the one that calmed the thoughts he had of <em>her.</em> Stunned to sobriety, Jack turned from how he had been leaning his forehead against the wooden door, a rush of embarrassment flooding his cheeks. Elsa sat by the pianoforte in her nightdress and stunning magenta wrapper, her soft blonde hair loosely spilling over one of her shoulders. “Are you alright?” she asked, concern crinkling her forehead. “You look pale.”</p><p>As he approached, Elsa’s eyes widened at the sight of his puffed out collar, half open shirtsleeves and undone waistcoat. She turned away, a fierce red blush creeping up to her cheeks. He made a discreet effort to redo the buttons of his vest as he sat on the piano bench beside her, the nerves in his hands tingling with the urge to hold her hand.</p><p>Even a graze from her finger would greatly help his sanity.</p><p>He couldn’t look at her—not with her hair free from its usual bun or braid, just begging for him to reach out and tangle his fingers in them. He didn’t trust himself enough, not with the alcohol in his blood that dulled his intuition. He gripped the edges of the bench they occupied instead, fingers drumming rapidly against the wood. Washed by the warm light from the dying fire, she looked like an angel.</p><p>When he hung his head and didn’t reply, she muttered, “Can’t sleep?”</p><p>For lack of anything else to say, Jack just nodded.</p><p>Elsa sighed. “Neither could I. You’re welcome to keep me company, but I’m afraid I can’t play as well as I normally would.”</p><p>He did look up then. Her left hand, wrapped securely in linen, rested on her lap while the other was placed lightly on the keys. “How’s your wrist?” he asked quietly.</p><p>Elsa raised her injured wrist and gently turned it over and around. “On the mend. The physician said that luckily, I did not break anything, and only gave me a decoction to numb the pain.”</p><p>Silence stretched between them, accompanied by the occasional cackling of the flames. He ought to apologize, as he had meant to do earlier, but something in their shared silence sparked with electricity. It made the hair on his arms stand on end in anticipation, but not of danger or fear. After a few quiet minutes, Elsa started tickling the ivories with her good hand, and he recognized the tune immediately.</p><p>“When mother sang her lullaby, Anna would drift right off to sleep,” she recalled fondly, smiling sweetly to herself as the notes fell slowly from her fingers. Jack chuckled at the image of little Sophie popping up in his mind, with her tiny mouth hanging open to let out some loud, inhuman snoring. “It’s a Northludra folksong about this river, Ahtohallan. I don't understand it, but whenever she sings about it, she always makes it seem like this <em>magical </em>place...”</p><p>As her fingers on the keys paused, Elsa herself began to sing.</p><p>
  <em>Where the North wind meets the sea</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There’s a river full of memory</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sleep, my darling, safe and sound</em>
</p><p>
  <em>For in this river all is found</em>
</p><p>While the notes she wove and spun from the pianoforte were beautiful in their complexity and varying tones, her singing voice was soft, vulnerable—ultimately a sound that was unique and equally bewitching in its simplicity. It was smooth and serene like the glassy surface of a lake during a clear, starry night, when the rest of the world was still and quiet. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back as her voice carried him high in the sky and wrapped him in a blanket of clouds.</p><p>
  <em>In her waters, deep and true</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Lie the answers, and a path for you</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dive down deep into her sound</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But not too far, or you’ll be drowned</em>
</p><p>Her lullaby continued to soar, painting wondrous images of a great mountain of ice illuminated by the Northern lights with just her voice. He pictured a glowing mass of crystalline ice that sparked to life with color reflecting from the sky, with water running down its slope that sparkled like a million little diamonds. He reached to touch the surface of the water, and it exploded into bluish dust above his head. As her song came to a close, Jack opened his eyes to find her fingers moving on the keys once more; he was convinced that Elsa singing had all been a dream.</p><p>“I never got to thank you,” she said tentatively, stroking one of the white keys with her fingertips. “You saved my life.”</p><p>Jack scoffed, a little too harshly. “I do not think it is wise to thank me when I was the reason for endangering it in the first place.”</p><p>“It wasn’t your fault,” she said simply, echoing his own words back to him that night by Ombric’s fireplace. “You couldn't have known.”</p><p>He felt a small grin tug at the corners of his mouth as he nodded his head. Remnants of her lullaby echoed softly in his ear, and the image of blue dust and frozen rivers played back in his head. He turned to her and asked, “That ‘river of memory’… do you think it’s real?”</p><p>Elsa looked puzzled for a second, then her face softened. She placed her hand where his was still curled around the edge of the bench, the muscles in his fingers relaxing almost immediately at her touch. “Yes, it is possible—if we choose to believe in it,” she answered, the earnest look in her eyes making him want to melt on the spot.</p><p>The lavender scent that filled his nostrils was real. The blue eyes that he was so lost in right now was real. The hand that held his comfortingly was real. Another urge stirred within him, one more powerful than his itching need to touch and be near to her. Before it could make itself known, the door opened, just enough to let Katherine’s auburn head peek through.</p><p>“Katherine,” Elsa called tersely as Katherine inched her way through the gap in the door. “It’s a little late to be wandering about. What troubles you?” Her voice was suddenly hard and stern, completely unlike the softness of her melody prior. The atmosphere that had surrounded them earlier with magic shattered like glass the second the door clicked open—now, what took its place was a cool, hostile tension that Jack wanted no part of.</p><p>His fingers felt cold; he looked down and saw that Elsa’s hand was gone.</p><p>Katherine looked as though she was about to say something; from where he sat, he could see that she was chewing on the inside of her cheek. Jack looked away, focusing instead on his lap. Elsa looked at Jack, then at Katherine, putting two and two together. She clicked her tongue. “Ah, it seems that I may have interrupted something. I shall leave you.”</p><p>She moved to stand, and he almost reached out for her hand. “Elsa—” <em>stay. Please.</em></p><p>“It’s quite alright, <em>my lord.</em> I am suddenly very tired,” she said with a taut smile as she straightened the front of her nightgown. As she headed for the door, she turned back and added airily, “Do be careful. Matthias will be doing rounds tonight. Pleasant dreams, to <em>both </em>of you.”</p><p>Elsa stepped around Katherine in a swoosh of magenta silk and closed the door behind her without another backward glance.</p><p>Katherine was as still as a statue. Jack did not move from his position by the pianoforte, either. They were at a stalemate, waiting for the other to make the first move. After an agonizing eternity of silence, Jack finally opened his mouth to speak, but Katherine beat him to it. She turned sharply on her heel and left the room, slamming the door loudly on her way out.</p><p>Jack spent the rest of the night, wide awake and sober, in the drawing room, long after the fire in the grate disintegrated into glowing embers. It had been a few years since he last stared at the portrait of Tsar Lunar, and as he did, a new question arose in his mind, one that was different from the singular question he asked the portrait in his youth.</p><p>
  <em>What is happening to me?</em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: That last line was inspired by one of Chris Pine's movies "This Means War." It's a fun action romcom and it's been my guilty pleasure over the week. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>:"&gt;</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elsa found herself alone most days after the incident. She was no stranger to solitude, but she was starting to realize that being on her own was utterly very <em>boring</em>.</p><p>Her wrist was quickly healing, and the joint was well enough to let her play simple melodies at the pianoforte. She could not, however, play as much as she would like, so she took to doing literally <em>anything</em> to pass the time—from reading all the books in the Tsar’s vast collection to counting the number of squares in the geometric patterns all over the keep. It was fine as long as she stayed indoors; she did not want Mattias to suffer from another aneurysm since the last time she went out.</p><p>Her current isolation in Burgess was, in some ways, very different from her childhood’s in Arendelle. For one, she did not feel as though the guards and added patrols were keeping her from getting out—in fact, she felt very safe and secure from the dangers that they were protecting her from. Over the course of the week, she had received three letters: one from her father, another from her mother, and the last from her sister. Her father’s letter was so short it was barely a note. Apparently, Mattias had had Jack send him a lengthy apology the day they came back from Ombric’s. Though his missive did not explicitly say it, she felt the disappointment that bled from the ink of the cursive on the page.</p><p>Her mother, ever the gentle soul that she was, despite the overflowing worry from her words, had expressed how exceedingly proud she was of her developing bond with Jack. She wanted Elsa to pass her thanks to him for giving her the opportunity to share a part of his world—<em>just be more careful next time</em>, her mother had added post-script. Anna’s letter was the longest, with scribbles on both sides of the messily folded paper that Elsa was amazed that she had this much to write. It was almost as if Anna had managed to put down every thought and change of emotion she felt, hence the less elegant handwriting that would have made Gerda’s eye twitch<em>. </em>Elsa smiled as she traced over the embossed parts where her sister had dug the pen into the page too hard, tucking them away at her writing desk with the previous letters she had received. Looking at the small pile of accumulated parchment in the drawer made her chest heavy with homesickness.</p><p>Since the skirmish in the woods, Jack had been awfully busy. He would spend the day either going on patrols himself or working in the forge with St. North. At night after dinner, he would slip away to the study to go over the reports from the guards with Mattias. Elsa wasn’t sure whether he was doing this to punish himself for what happened, but it was the most she had ever seen him at command since she had been here. She had to admit, she was secretly proud of him for taking accountability very seriously. Maybe Toothiana was right: maybe her sense of responsibility <em>did</em> influence his own.</p><p>Sometimes, she would catch him eyeing her strangely, especially at the table in the Great Hall. Eating meals was one of the only times she ever saw him nowadays, and when she would turn to look at him, Jack would avert his gaze immediately. She wondered if he still felt guilty for putting her in harm’s way, or if he was thinking about their little standoff with Katherine a few nights ago. She wondered if he worried about what she thought of it—however, if she was being completely honest, she was lost, too. Something about that night awakened feelings in her that she did not know she had. It was a flame that started in the pit of her stomach, spreading throughout her body and searing her veins like acid. She was not angry at <em>her betrothed’s beloved’s</em> interruption, but she was not at all pleased about it, either. She dared not name that emotion, for fear that it would plant itself deeper into her being. More than that, she was <em>hesitant</em> to confront her own reflection in the mirror, to see those feelings bubbling just beneath the surface those pools of blue that stared her bravely in the face, daring her to dive right in and acknowledge them.</p><p>This morning, the breakfast table was particularly quiet, with its occupants being only Toothiana and Mattias. St. North and Jack had started on early business at the forge and Bunnymund had to run errands in the village. Elsa, ever the master of her own emotions, laid a perfectly expressionless mask over her features lest the others see how her face fell upon seeing the half-empty table.</p><p>Midway through her meal, the butler announced the arrival of a parcel for her. “From sir Ombric Shalazar, Your Highness,” he said. With barely contained excitement, Elsa leapt from her seat and brought the parcel up to her room, completely abandoning her food. Sitting herself on the chaise, she ripped the wrapper open and beheld its contents.</p><p>The object within was more beautiful than she imagined it to be.</p><p>It was a simple, unassuming wooden box covered with intricate silver carvings like the swirling patterns of frost on glass. There was no visible opening, nor hinges to indicate that there was. But when Elsa rattled it, she heard the underlying layers of the puzzle she had designed with Ombric move and shift. With the parcel came instructions for Elsa on how to open the box, written in Ombric’s sharp lettering. The puzzle had enough space inside just as she requested, where a small prize can be laid for the one who would solve it. She had yet to decide what to put in the puzzle box, and her mind was reeling through endless possibilities when a gentle knock came from her door.</p><p>“One moment!” she called, hastily stuffing the puzzle box and its torn wrapper in her armoire. After straightening her skirts, she opened the door and was surprised to see Mattias standing behind it. He bowed his head in greeting. “Might I have a word with Your Highness?” he asked politely. Elsa noticed that he was as stiff as a board, the awkward tension pulling his broad shoulders taut.</p><p>She nodded and stepped aside to let him through. “Would you like some tea?” asked Elsa. Mattias shook his head, and she beckoned him to sit on the chaise lounge while she prepared a cup for herself instead. “What seems to be the problem, Mattias?” she asked over her shoulder.</p><p>Behind her, she heard Mattias clear his throat multiple times. “It’s about the young lord,” he began, finally. Elsa’s pulse unexpectedly quickened, unsure of what to make of Mattias’ statement. <em>What had Jack done this time? </em>she wondered.</p><p>“What about him?” Elsa asked airily. She turned to Mattias, cup at hand, awaiting his answer. She watched how he fiddled with the braided trim on the sleeve of his military garb, his knee bouncing rapidly in anxiousness. His broad lips were pursed in a tight line, though the subtle movement of his cheeks suggested that he was chewing on the inside of his mouth. What on earth was he debating on telling her? The general had always been as socially awkward as she, but never in her presence or Anna’s.</p><p>“I caught him a few nights ago, with the same maid from the courtyard. She was waiting for him in his private chambers,” Mattias mumbled quickly. “I do not wish to presume, but I suspect that Lord Frost is having an affair with the maid.”</p><p><em>Ah, I should have known, </em>she thought, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. She <em>did </em>warn them.</p><p>Elsa could literally feel the mask fall back in place, carefully molding her features in a look of feigned surprise. She allowed a few seconds of stunned silence to pass, hoping it would somehow sell her act. “Thank you for bringing this to me, Mattias,” she answered in a terse, cursory tone, “I shall consult Lord Frost about this later.”</p><p>Mattias squinted at her as she took another sip of tea. After a long pause, it was as if a veil had lifted from his warm brown eyes and his face smoothed over in realization. “You already knew, didn’t you?”</p><p>Elsa’s demitasse made a slightly loud clang against its saucer as she brought it down from her lips. Why did even she <em>think</em> that she could lie to Mattias, who had been there like a second father to her since childhood? She did not answer. “Why didn’t you say anything?” he censured.</p><p>“There is nothing to be said on the matter,” replied Elsa, her voice cool and void of emotion. They could have easily been talking of the weather for all she cared. “I ask that you speak no more of this, to <em>anyone. </em>I’ve already come to an agreement with Jack about this.”</p><p>“You do not need to bargain for his affections, Princess Elsa—”</p><p>“I am <em>not</em> bargaining for anything,” she snapped. Her sudden icy tone made Mattias flinch back in his seat. Her? Bargaining for <em>affection? </em>She had to laugh, albeit internally, the sinister sound echoing in the recesses of her ear. Elsa clenched her jaw. “Let him fool around for as long as he wishes, while he still can.”</p><p>“Why do you treat yourself as such?” Mattias demanded, standing up and towering over her. She planted her feet firmly on the carpeted floor and held her ground as he advanced, eyes narrowed to icy blue slits. Mattias’ expression softened with a slow exhale of breath, one that was reminiscent of her mother’s look of concern. The look caught her off-guard, but she did not falter. “You are not the mistress here—<em>she </em>is,” said Mattias. “You cannot let them both walk all over you. You are a <em>queen, </em>not a martyr.”</p><p>Despite herself, Elsa’s shoulders slumped from their squared position with a long, heavy sigh. Mattias had a point—she <em>had</em> been giving too much of herself. All the while she thought that Jack and Katherine were at her mercy, given that she had the power to put an end to what they had with nothing but a word. But it was, ironically, quite the opposite—what she once held in power was now an added burden on her shoulders, and the unforeseen <em>emotions</em> that came with it increased the weight tenfold.</p><p>“We are to be married anyway,” Elsa muttered defeatedly under her breath, suddenly unable to look Mattias in the eye. “What more could I ask for?”</p><p><em>“Love,</em> my dear.”</p><p>His wide palms easily spanned the slim breadth of her shoulders as he placed his hands on them, the steady weight and warmth oddly comforting. Mattias’ voice was soft and deep, resonating with sincerity and conviction that made her chest swell with overwhelming emotion. “You need a partner who will cherish you, who will love you and support you, not out of obligation, but out of love. Out of choice.”</p><p>Mattias reached up to brush a wayward tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. Elsa did not even realize that her eyes had watered. “You deserve to be chosen. You deserve all the love in the world.”</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>Elsa was not present at the dinner table that night.</p><p>He had already missed her at breakfast, and seeing as that was one of the only times he looked forward to these days, Jack could not help but feel a little disappointed. Even catching a single glimpse of her made his workload bearable; seeing her reminded him <em>why </em>he was doing it in the first place.</p><p>His emotions were still a tangled mess, the strings that usually pulled him to action tangled all over. So, he distracted himself with his duties, but despite how <em>rewarded </em>he felt for his hard work and general improvement, the voice in the back of his mind would not cease its nagging. Jack would spend sleepless nights, alone with that voice and a bottle of whiskey, debating with himself and the person he saw in the mirror.</p><p><em>I love Katherine, </em>he would say.</p><p><em>Do you really? </em>his reflection would counter in its usual sarcastic tone. <em>What of Elsa?</em></p><p>He would pause, scratch his head. <em>She’s a friend.</em></p><p>
  <em>And you’re a terrible liar.</em>
</p><p>The longer these arguments ensued, the more he sounded as if he were trying to convince <em>himself </em>of his own convictions. Yes, he loved Katherine, but it was getting harder and harder to deny this magnetic pull that he felt with Elsa and her alone, like she was the gravity that kept his feet on this earth. He remembered the vows he had made in Ombric’s library before her sleeping form, remembered the strength that moved him to swear those words to her. He loved and cherished how their companionship had evolved into something much deeper than anything he ever anticipated. Getting to know her, past the mask she wore and the pain she carried, earned her a permanent place in his heart.</p><p><em>You cannot keep them both, </em>his reflection would remind him. <em>It’s incredibly selfish—you will end up losing them both instead.</em></p><p>His love for Katherine was a passionate, consuming fire. His feelings for Elsa was a spark that slowly grew into a hearth that called itself <em>home.</em></p><p>After the table was cleared, he trudged up the stairs and onto the second landing. He had not meant to pause on the hallway, but something caught his eye. Elsa’s door was ajar, with no light spilling from within. He edged slowly towards it, his blood turning cold with every passing second, pushing the door open quietly. Though the room was dark, he could see that the bed was still perfectly made, but one of the corners of the carpet near the armoire was upturned. “Elsa?” The echo of his shaky voice was the only thing he heard. Jack checked the bathroom, even under the bed, but she was nowhere to be found. Panic simmered to a low, rumbling boil in his chest, and he broke into a dead sprint down the stairs, racing towards the study.</p><p>
  <em>Where could she be?</em>
</p><p>He turned the corner and ran headfirst into St. North’s belly.</p><p>“Jack, my boy!” the older man barked, steadying him with large beefy hands. “What on earth—?”</p><p>“Elsa’s gone,” panted Jack. “She wasn’t at dinner. And she’s not in her room. Send for Mattias. Tell him to lead a palace-wide search, and start from the west side. I’ll take the east.”</p><p>St. North’s thick brows furrowed, his expression hard and stern. “At once, my lord.”</p><p>He still wasn’t used to being addressed as <em>lord, </em>especially by the court he deemed as family, but it gave him enough strength to regain his composure. He nodded once and set off to rally some guards to meet him at the east end of the keep when something caught his foot as he crossed the foyer. He bent down to pick up the strange object, which had rolled a little ways out in front of him—it was an oddly shaped carrot. What was a carrot doing in the middle of the hallway?</p><p>The wind tickled the back of his neck and he turned to see that the front door was hanging slightly open, allowing little snowflakes to enter the threshold. Strangely, his panic melted away as the magnetic pull in his gut led him outside. He followed it blindly, his steps muffled by a layer of fresh snow. It was the first snowfall of the season, and he mentally smacked himself in the head for being too busy to notice. Winter was his favorite season, and every year he looked forward to the first fall of snow. When he reached the edge of the garden, he exhaled a shaky sigh of relief as his eyes landed on her.</p><p>Elsa was kneeling on the ground with her back towards him, swathed in a thick magenta cape that collected the snow falling lightly from above. He approached her quietly, and as he edged to the side, he saw a small snowman over her shoulder, complete with the briquette buttons, twiggy hands and a large front tooth. The only thing missing was—</p><p>“You dropped something,” Jack spoke, announcing his presence. Elsa’s head snapped to the direction of his voice, her eyes wide with surprise. Jack raised his hand, showing her the carrot he found in the foyer. Elsa laughed sheepishly, a subtle blush creeping up her cheeks. She held out her open palm and he placed the carrot in it, squatting on the ground beside her. Elsa stuck the carrot in the middle of her snowman’s elongated face, and leaned back on her haunches to admire her work. “Lord Frost, I am pleased to introduce to you, Olaf the snowman—and he likes warm hugs!” she beamed, her eyes shining bright as she grinned from ear to ear. Even in their brief time at Ombric’s, Jack had never seen her this childishly giddy before. It was adorable.</p><p>He stood with his chin jutted out and gave a very flamboyant bow to Olaf the snowman, making Elsa laugh even more. “Anna and I used to make snowmen all the time during the first snowfall. It’s our tradition,” she explained. “So when I saw the first snowflake from my window, I couldn’t resist.”</p><p>Jack chuckled, shaking his head. “Did you know that I was born in winter?” asked Elsa, looking at him from the ground. Snowflakes adorned her pale blonde hair, which was tied in an elegant bun that formed a softly glowing halo around her head. He noticed that she was still wearing her day clothes underneath the cape, her arms covered with the black fabric of her bodice while her skirts featured the signature emerald green of Arendelle. Jack shook his head.</p><p>“They said that it was one of the harshest winters Arendelle ever had in the last century,” she said, raising her face to the sky and closing her eyes as snowflakes landed on her face. “But when I was born, in the depths of that horrible winter, by some miracle the winds and the storm stopped. The sky cleared, and it was the first time in weeks that the people had seen the sun. Some even claim that snowflakes hung in the air, frozen in place.”</p><p><em>Snowflake, </em>he thought. He quite liked the sound of that.</p><p>“Sounds magical,” he remarked. Elsa smiled. “Oh, it was. From the day on, the people of Arendelle would hold the Winter Fest every year, to commemorate the miracle and the beauty of winter. We haven’t had a difficult winter since.”</p><p>“That sounds lovely, <em>snowflake.”</em></p><p>He didn’t understand why he suddenly felt embarrassed by calling her that, and he was just about to take it back when he saw Elsa’s blush deepen at the new pet name. He smirked smugly. “I wish I could show you,” she said with a longing smile. “It’s a week-long event that starts when we ring the Yule bell in the courtyard, to welcome the holiday season. Then, the village would bring these long, massive tables outside filled with oh, so many food—Anna once ate half of my chocolate birthday cake before we could even start the party, and <em>Mama</em> was so furious because she got blue icing all over her little face!”</p><p>They laughed together at Elsa’s memory, their breaths forming mist in the chilly night air. “She always did have a sweet tooth for chocolate,” Elsa recalled fondly. “I miss her so much.”</p><p>Watching her, she did not seem particularly sad or happy—just nostalgic, homesick. An idea popped in his mind. “Winters in Burgess are a bit dull, I’m afraid,” he began, “I’d like to personally experience this Winter Fest, and perhaps I would need a guide to help me. Would you indulge me, snowflake?”</p><p>“Goodness, <em>no,” </em>Elsa said. He raised a brow at her, the corner of his lip quirking up as she rambled on, completely missing the point implied in his statement. “There are certainly better tour guides than me, and I would have to—<em>wait.”</em></p><p>She looked at him then. “What?”</p><p>Jack shrugged in practiced nonchalance. “I could possibly arrange it with St. North in time for your birthday,” he stated, his voiced exaggeratedly airy, “but you <em>must </em>promise to take me with you—I do not wish to miss my first Winter Fest.”</p><p>He imagined heaven must look like Elsa's face as her features lit up with extreme joy. The next thing he knew she was in his arms, crushing the air out of his lungs in a tight embrace. He did not hesitate to return the gesture, unable to keep from laughing cheerfully with her, the sound of their combined laughter filling the air like chimes in the wind. He could not help himself—he picked her up from the ground, and proceeded to spin her around out of pure delight, just to hear her laugh some more. It was truly an exquisite feeling, to share in this happiness with her—that was, until he settled her back on the ground and Elsa pulled back and kissed him right on the lips.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: Thank you all for being so patient with this update... I'd explain myself now but I don't want to keep you all from this chapter any further so I'll just put that at the end and please enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She kissed him. On the lips.</p><p>Elsa’s eyes widened and she instinctively pulled back with a gasp, a cold hand flying to her tingling lips. Lord in heaven, what had possessed her to do <em>that? </em>Though it was merely a peck on the lips, it was enough to send ripples of energy coursing through her veins, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering wildly in anticipation. Jack stood still before her, the thin puffs of air coming from his parted lips the only indicator that he was not one of the marble statues in the garden. Why was he just staring at her? She was anxious for him to say, or <em>do, </em>anything, but he remained frozen. Unable to hold her anticipation back any longer, she took in a breath to apologize when Jack pried her hand away from her mouth and kissed her again.</p><p>If this was what Mattias meant by love, then Elsa wanted just <em>this.</em></p><p>His mouth descended on hers in an intimately slow fashion that took her breath away; it made her heart stop and her bones melt at the smooth, velvety caress of his lips. Gooseflesh stippled her skin as Jack’s hand traced her jaw and cupped the base of her neck, angling her head slightly so as to deepen the kiss. Her senses were drowning with <em>him:</em> the peppermint scent of his hair, the vanilla taste of his mouth, and the frantic beat of his heart. It was all too much and yet still not enough, and her head swam with the overbright, feverish heat that washed over her entire body. She felt every movement, every touch, all the way down to her toes. It was <em>incredible.</em></p><p>Her hands, which had been resting over his rapidly beating heart, had curled around the lapels of his dark blue coat, subconsciously pulling him closer. A low rumble emanated from his throat, the deep vibration of the sound making her knees wobble. She’d been too focused on the warmth of his other hand, which now rested on the small of her back, that she jumped slightly when she felt his tongue prod against her sealed lips. Curious, Elsa slanted her mouth across his, shyly parting her lips a little, and when she felt the first languid sweep of his tongue in her mouth, an unholy sound between a moan and a gasp escaped her throat.</p><p>Her soft, unashamed mewling had such an immediate physical effect on Jack—the kiss metamorphosed from slow and sweet to something urgent and burning as he pulled her flush against his chest. Elsa was hyperaware of being engulfed in his body heat, of the strong arms that wrapped around her and held her close, of the deft fingers that traced up and down her spine sending sparks of electricity through her sensitive nerves with every pass. Now without room to move, her hands trailed up to his hair, where her fingers grabbed fistfuls of those silky white locks; his hair was so soft it felt like digging her hands into a cloud. Jack drew her in further with the combined movements of tongue and lip against hers, making her melt deeper into his passionate embrace.</p><p>It seemed to last forever—neither of them wanted to pull away, not even for a breath of the fresh winter air. So when Jack was finally able to detach his lips from hers, they were both panting.</p><p>Elsa’s heart raced, its frenzied beating pushing against her sternum so hard that she thought it might burst right through her chest and escape her. She opened her eyes to find that Jack was staring at her in such wonder and adoration; he had this look of devotion in his eye, this wonderful spark, one that Elsa only ever saw her parents share when they looked at each other.</p><p>Jack looked so beautiful—the tops of his cheeks and the tip of his nose were all tinged pink, his mildly swollen lips a glistening darker shade against his pale, angular face. His irises were dilated so much that only a thin ring of electric blue was visible, his snowy hair sticking up at odd places where her fingers hand run through it. He rested his forehead against hers and sighed a contented sigh, his eyes closed and the pad of his thumb mindlessly tracing circular patterns on her cheek. Elsa’s hands were back on his chest, fingers pushing past the coat and vest so that she could feel his heartbeat through the thin linen of his shirtsleeves—she could have sworn that their hearts beat in unison now, as their slowing breaths mingled in the small space between them.</p><p>“We should probably get back, <em>snowflake,” </em>he whispered sheepishly.</p><p>His chosen term of endearment, one that she <em>knew</em> was meant just for her, sent another wave of tingles throughout her entire body. Thoughts clouded by new and overwhelming sensations, all she could think to reply was, “Hm?”</p><p>As if on cue, a couple of alarm bells sounded within the keep. She swiftly turned her head to the sound of the ringing alarms, fear replacing the thrill for a brief second before Jack started to laugh. She raised an incredulous brow at him, which he smoothed over with a kiss, right above the offending arch. “I may or may not have incited a palace-wide search for you,” he chuckled playfully in her ear.</p><p>Elsa snorted and rolled her eyes at him. Taking her hand in his and lightly planting a kiss on her knuckles, they ran back inside, both laughing by the time Mattias had found them in the foyer. Upon seeing her, safe and sound, the general nearly wept in relief.</p><p>It took a few minutes for Mattias to calm down, after which she announced that she was going to bed. Jack, who was grinning like a child on Christmas day, offered to accompany her. As glad as he was to see her unharmed, Mattias’ keen eye did not miss the subtle change in the air between them as his gaze followed the pair up the stairs.</p><p>Jack held her hand in his, all the way to her door. There, he bowed and brushed his lips against the back of her hand once more. “Good night, my snowflake.”</p><p>“Good night, Jack,” came her timid reply. She turned to her door, her hand just about to twist the knob open when she heard Jack call her by name—she turned around in time for him to step forward. Her chin instantly tilted up as he leaned in, but instead of ducking his head towards hers as he did earlier, he pressed a pure, modest good night’s kiss on the space between her eyebrows. If her rational mind had a body of its own, it would have grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her violently—barely even an hour had passed since her first kiss and already she was expecting another!</p><p>Without another word, Jack sauntered down the hallway with his hands behind his back, humming merrily to himself with a vibrant smirk plastered on his face.</p><p>Elsa hid her own stupid grin behind her hand as she shut the door behind her and leaned against it, knees wobbly and heart full. Holy Virgin, she just had her first <em>real</em> kiss—she now understood why Anna would fawn and swoon all over the romantic literature and fairy tales and fantasies she devoured. <em>This</em>… this was wholly unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Was this it? Was this what falling in <em>love</em> felt like? Was this the final piece to fall into place, to make her realize that her feelings for Jack had grown immeasurably from the start?</p><p>She crossed the room to her armoire to change for the night when she saw the wooden puzzle box that had arrived earlier. Feeling incredibly inspired and overjoyed, she held off changing into her nightclothes, brought the box with her to her writing desk, and began to write.</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>Jack awoke the next morning long before the infernal grandfather clock chimed, bursting through the door of his room with inexplicable joy exactly as it rang. There was a certain spring in his step as he bounded down the stairs. Snowflakes were falling lightly outside, coating the landscape of the grounds in a layer of blinding white snow. The fireplaces all around the keep would always be ablaze by now, as Bunnymund preferred to be warm indoors, much to his dismay—he quite liked the cold, loved the chill that ran down his spine and the freshness of the minty air through his nose.</p><p>He turned about the landing when he caught a glimpse of a pale blonde head further down—Elsa. <em>His snowflake.</em> His earlier excitement increased tenfold. Jack hopped on the railing of the last flight and slid the rest of the way down, landing gracefully and loudly just as Elsa reached the floor. She jumped at the sound of his shoes, but relaxed as he twirled past her and bowed with a flourish. “Good morning, snowflake!” he greeted, tilting his head up to look at her through his lashes. Elsa chuckled behind her hand and shook her head, and he felt his own smile widen at the familiar blush that stained her pale cheeks.</p><p>She extended her hand to him, which he took with a cursory kiss on her knuckles before placing it on the crook of his elbow as he straightened. He could not help but notice that his senses were immediately heightened in her presence, to how the hand on his elbow felt more <em>substantial </em>than perfunctory. “You look lovely today, my dear,” he added under his breath, watching her cheeks redden further at the husky tone of his voice. Elsa was wearing his favorite shade of blue today, with ruffles of lace peeking through the cuffs of her sleeves and collar, covering the creamy column of her neck. Pinned above her chest was a crystal brooch the size of his palm, the translucent white of the gems together with the shape of the brooch giving the appearance of a frost-covered flower. Her hair was pinned in an elegant braided updo that covered her ears but allowed the teardrop-shaped earrings she wore to peek through. Jack had half the mind to release her flowing locks from its prison of pins, but he thought against it.</p><p>“Thank you,” she replied with a shy smile. They walked together to the Great Hall in comfortable silence, taking their precious time in each other’s company. Jack was reminded of the night of their engagement ball, the same feeling of ardor warming his insides every time he stole a sideways glance at the woman on his arm. Their kiss in the gardens remained a very vivid scene in his mind’s eye, the sensation of touch lingering on his lips, his hands, his chest. Her kiss made him realize that his reflection had been right all along—Jack <em>had</em> fallen for her, as slowly and as surely as the snow from the sky. He kissed her, and it was as if she herself had reached out and pulled him from the tangled mess of his emotions. He kissed her, and everything felt <em>right</em>.</p><p>This choice, however, presented its own complications to him after he had ridden its high—sooner or later, he would have to face <em>Katherine, </em>and part of him dreaded every minute that brought him closer to that inevitable confrontation.</p><p>They made their way through the doors of the Great Hall and Jack helped Elsa to her seat before taking his own across from her. St. North was already at the head of the table; that seat was usually reserved for the lord, but Jack was more accustomed to sitting at the side and in the few times he actually sat at the head, he felt like sinking into the chair to avoid the attention.</p><p>“What news have we today, St. North?” he asked as he helped himself to a plate.</p><p>“Our spies outside the keep have reported a steadily increasing number of rebels lurking in the shadows,” St. North answered. “We’ve yet to discover their whereabouts, but for now they just seem to be <em>waiting.”</em></p><p>“Let’s not drop our guard,” said Jack. “They aren’t stupid enough to simply lie in wait for Elsa to traipse outside the keep a second time. They might just be biding their time before they attack.”</p><p>St. North nodded just as the others arrived at the table: Toothiana, Mattias, and lastly, Bunnymund. They continued discussing about different reports and how each was handling it, until Jack noticed that Elsa had stopped eating, a look of discomfiture twisting her face into a frown. He cleared his throat. “How soon can we make sail for Arendelle?”</p><p>Sure enough, this caught her attention, and before St. North could reply, she said, “I do not think it is wise to insist on that, my lord. We are already in much danger as it is, and as much as I would like to go home, I fear that we might be giving the rebels what they want if I leave the keep.”</p><p>“On the contrary, Your Highness,” Bunnymund interjected, “Moving you in secret might be the best option. The rebels’ growth in numbers indicate a potentially planned ambush on Burgess. If our inference is correct, then you would be much safer in Arendelle than here.”</p><p>“The King would want to keep you close during these times. We will be sending a message for him today, and if he agrees, you would be able to sail out within a fortnight,” added Toothiana. Elsa cast a dubious glance at Mattias, who only nodded in favor of their plan. She smiled gratefully, eyes lingering on Jack's a second longer, and continued with her food.</p><p>When he was done, Jack cleared his throat and nudged St. North’s shin with his foot, discreetly nodding his head towards the general direction of the forge when they made eye contact. St. North’s blue eyes twinkled with excitement. “Excuse us, You Grace. We best be off,” St. North said. Elsa politely nodded her head as they took their leave. Her eyes followed Jack as he left the table, icy blue gaze dropping to her food as he left—not to follow St. North, but to walk around the table to where she sat to bend down and kiss her on the cheek.</p><p>Elsa startled when she felt his lips on the soft skin of her cheek, which instantly turned bright red as he straightened. “Your Highness,” he said with a bow, and he made sure that she did not miss the playful smirk upon his lips. Jack turned to leave nonchalantly, oddly pleased and charmed by how Elsa was biting her lip to keep from grinning and keeping her gaze determinedly fixed on her plate.</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>“I want to make something nice for Elsa,” Jack declared once the door of St. North’s private workroom shut closed. On the huge, wooden center table lay the diamond-headed spear they had been working on for days. Ever since the incident with the rebels that ambushed them in the woods, Jack felt the need for a new weapon that would protect him—and Elsa, as well—better than an old wooden staff. Though the war had yet to come, he sought to be more than adequately prepared for it. Jack had always preferred spears to swords, for the distance that a spear would give him from his opponent added greatly to his already advantageous speed and size. With a sword, he was good; with a spear, he was <em>lethal.</em></p><p>St. North heartily laughed, making Jack’s cheeks burn, his confidence waning slightly under the embarrassment. “Well, you can certainly hold your own in this forge. I cannot imagine what’s stopping you seeing as you are so <em>inspired,”</em> the older man said as he took his seat on the large wingback chair with rich red upholstery and gold accents on the wooden frame.</p><p>“What I’ve thought of requires far more delicate hands than mine,” Jack admitted. It was true—St. North’s hands were big, as was the man himself, but they were very skilled, especially in detailed work. He was a living testament of a student surpassing his master. Ombric did not even come close to how intricately St. North can work on a piece.</p><p>“It would be much more <em>special</em> if you do it yourself, no?”</p><p>“Of course, but—”</p><p>“But what?”</p><p>Jack chewed at the inside of his cheeks, shoulders slumping. He sighed. “I don’t want to make a mess of anything,” he murmured. “She deserves the <em>best, </em>not whatever unsophisticated thing I can make for her. And I have gotten her in enough trouble already. I just want to give her something <em>good.”</em></p><p>St. North paused, stroking his long beard contemplatively. His thick brows were furrowed, blue eyes alight with thought. Jack felt more fidgety with every passing minute as St. North studied him. “What?” he burst out defensively.</p><p>“Oh, nothing, my boy,” mused the older man. “So you <em>have </em>grown accustomed to the notion of being engaged to her, haven’t you?”</p><p>Heat flooded Jack’s face, but he managed a small smile. “Of course I have. We’ve spent a considerable amount of time together to <em>not </em>understand each other, to some extent,” he said, a little too airily, walking away from where St. North sat to admire the numerous little trinkets he had displayed on his shelves. “I would be lying if I said that I didn’t look up to her. She’s thoughtful, selfless, extremely smart and talented—with the wit to challenge my own, no less—and… she makes me feel like I could be more than who I thought I was. And her passion for duty above all else, <em>despite</em> everything else… I can only aspire to achieve just as much as what she’s willing to do for her kingdom.”</p><p>He was shocked at how easily he came to put into words the thoughts and feelings that had been stirring in his chest since the night previous. St. North had always been the closest he ever had to a father figure, but never had Jack opened up to him like this before—for fear of facing disappointment or simply for feeling like he did not belong, Jack could never decipher.</p><p>A creak sounded from behind him as St. North stood from his chair, adjusting his trousers over his round belly and placing his hands on his hips. “Well then, we better get started on this present of yours if you’re to leave within a fortnight’s notice,” said St. North, beaming and rubbing his hands together as he always does before a project. Jack flashed him with a wide smile.</p><p>St. North clapped a huge palm on his shoulder, and Jack buckled under the unnecessarily heavy weight of it. “You’ve change for the better, son, and we could not be more <em>proud. </em>I'm sure that the princess will love whatever you'll make for her. I can feel it—<em>in my belly!”</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N continued: I was having a really hard time trying to think of what to write after they had kissed because the first part of this chapter was supposed to be part of the previous one... I just cut it out because I felt like the previous chapter would be too long with it. But let me know are you guys okay with longer chapters? Or are my chapter lengths just right? Normally I limit each chapter to 3500 words but I'd really appreciate your thoughts!</p><p>P.S. I really do appreciate your patience with my updating... civil engineering is hard work and I barely had time to sleep over the last few days, let alone write. Hope you enjoyed this one though!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bearing in mind that she was to leave within a fortnight, Elsa busied herself with preparing holiday gifts for her family. Of course, she <em>had </em>planned them already, but given her shorter window of time and her inability to leave the keep, she had to compromise on a few of her ideas. Some of Mattias’ men were at her beck and call whenever she needed something from the village, and to minimize the threat of having the rebels slip through the already heightened security, they were the only ones allowed to leave at her dispense. She had acquired a new shawl with the signature geometric motif of Burgess for her mother, a set of different shades of emerald green cufflinks for her father, and an assortment of Burgess sweets and chocolates for her sister. Anna’s gift continually grew as Elsa wanted to make sure she had every variation of the confectionery Bunnymund had presented for her.</p><p>One of the highlights of her day —and arguably, the part she enjoyed the most—ever since the night of their first kiss was the change in her daily routine. Every morning, Jack would meet her at the foot of the stairs, lips curled into his trademark smirk, bright blue eyes beaming as they landed on her. Before he left the table, he’d kiss her on the cheek and every night, he would walk her to her room and kiss her good night on the forehead. Whenever they would walk to the Great Hall, he would cover her hand on his elbow with his, sometimes talking about what dreams they had the night prior; it was then that Elsa realized that she began to have more pleasant dreams, as if the hope that had filled her entire being wormed its way into her dreamscape. Jack seemed equally as hopeful, and though she fought hard against it, she was sure that what he felt for her was equal in both intensity and magnitude to what she felt for him.</p><p>Her mind pondered at the numerous ways she could make him confess this to her properly—though, she would not be entirely opposed to another kiss on the lips from Jack, should his words ever fail him.</p><p>Elsa felt pleased at their simple courtship, but she wondered whether her own lack of experience in the realm of love made her more susceptible to such small gestures. She herself was not extravagant in terms of showing affection, with the exception of doting on Anna to compensate for the wasted years of their youth. Her less rational mind would find ways to convince her that they had only just begun their <em>real </em>courtship—and even before that, Jack had seen her at her lowest, had shared his world with her, and had risked his life for her. Surely they had to count as romantic gestures, right? Or were they simply out of his obligation to bond with and protect the crown princess? If so, when had his feelings for her really begin? When had <em>her </em>feelings for him really begin? These internal debates that she would frequently have with herself threatened to crush this blossoming bud beneath its unforgiving boot heel, so in the end, she decided not to think of it at all.</p><p>That last thing she needed right now was for fear to ruin this for her, or for her to make too much out of anything lest she drive herself mad just <em>thinking.</em></p><p>As expected, a letter from her father arrived within the week, and she was beyond ecstatic to learn that she was finally going home. More than that, she was excited to be able to share <em>her </em>world with Jack this time, and since her visit happened to coincide with one of the most exuberant festivals her people celebrated, Elsa was doubly overjoyed.</p><p>With barely a week left before they set sail, it was all Elsa could do not to bounce on the balls of her feet. She had her trunks of gifts ready, on top of which rested the wooden puzzle box for Jack. Elsa was beyond elated to give this particular present, even more so now that its little prize was nestled inside. If Ombric’s estimation of Jack’s puzzle-solving abilities were anything to go on, then she would have to give this to him a week before the holidays so that he would open it exactly on Christmas day. It was thrilling to say the least, to rely on the chance that Jack would be able to solve it in time, but it was all the more symbolic for her—that even though she thrived on control, she was willing to take chances with him. Oh, what a fool in love she was!</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>Jack left the forge early, the box that held Elsa’s gift tucked securely in his coat, warmth surging outwards from his left pocket was pressed against his breast. It was a simple, little thing; Jack was equally excited and anxious to give it to her. After all, whatever could you give a princess who could have anything <em>and </em>everything with a mere wave of her little finger?</p><p>Walking back to the main wing of the keep made his heart race that had nothing to do with the physical act of walking itself. He wanted to see her—somehow the gift hiding in his pocket became a talisman that flooded him with courage. He suddenly wanted to tell her how he felt. He wanted her to know how deeply he felt it. Already he could picture Elsa by the pianoforte, eagerly beckoning him over to sit with her on the bench as she played. He would lean in after a song or two, capture her hand in his, then profess his feelings for her there, maybe steal a kiss or two…</p><p>
  <em>“Jack.”</em>
</p><p>He stopped dead in his tracks, imagination shattered. She was expertly hidden in the shadows that he did not even see her as he walked past.</p><p>“Good afternoon, Katherine.”</p><p>
  
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Meet me in the courtyard.</em>
</p><p>Elsa found the note on the side table nearest to her bedroom door, hastily scribbled on a torn piece of paper. The handwriting was unrecognizable, and there was no signature at the bottom. She hesitated, thinking of whether she should alert Mattias, or at least have him close by, but against her better judgment, she decided to meet this stranger on her own. If there was one good thing that came from her constant fear of the outside world, it was that she became extremely vigilant and very aware of her surroundings. That did not stop, however, the very same fear as it grew in the pit of her stomach with each cat-like step she took to the courtyard.</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>“We haven’t spoken in weeks,” Katherine muttered, her head tilted slightly downward so that her eyes looked like a sad puppy’s. In another time he would have gladly bent over backwards whenever she entreated him like this, but Jack stood still. His heart thudded in his chest at an alarming rate as she slowly approached, his sacred talisman scorching a hole through his left breast.</p><p>“I’ve been busy,” he said simply, though his throat suddenly felt very dry. Katherine now stood within his arm’s reach, auburn curls hidden by her bonnet, gray eyes flashing. “So I’ve heard,” she said under her breath.</p><p>Something in her tone unnerved him. Gossip spread like wildfire within the network of servants in the keep; there was nothing that they did not know nor hear of. What else had she heard? What else did she know?</p><p>Katherine’s eyes shone with angry tears. “So you do fancy <em>her, </em>don’t you?” she accused, voice slightly shaking.</p><p>This was it—the confrontation he had long been avoiding. Though he wanted things to go differently, there was apparently little he could do to prevent someone from getting hurt in the end. “Yes,” he answered quietly.</p><p>Tears slipped from the corner of her eyes, then she started hitting him on the chest. Jack let her, only fending off the blows that could have otherwise damaged his gift for Elsa. <em>“You promised me!” </em>Katherine sobbed in between punches, <em>“You loved me!”</em></p><p>“Katherine, stop—”</p><p>“You wanted to run away <em>with me!”</em></p><p>“And then what?” he snapped. Jack held her wrists in a firm grip so that he could speak clearly, ignoring her struggles and barely muffled crying. Her bonnet had fallen off her head somewhere in between her hitting him, a few loose strands of auburn hair sticking to her tear-stained cheeks. “How do you propose we live then? We were both orphans living off the streets once. Do you really want to go back to living like that?”</p><p>“You said it wouldn’t matter because we would have been together!” she hissed.</p><p>“That was different!” Jack argued. “We were young and stupid and selfish. This love will neither save nor sustain us. Poverty will crush us both, it will poison this love, and I do not want that.”</p><p>She sniffled weakly, her chest heaving irregularly. “You promised me that you would fight for me.”</p><p>“So I did,” he said, a sharp pang of guilt piercing right through him. “But Katherine, there is no future for you with me. If I let you, you would gladly remain a mistress, a secret, your entire life. But I cannot have that on my conscience, not while you still have a chance at a better life, one better than what you can have with me.”</p><p>Katherine had stopped struggling, so he released her. She bowed her head, hastily wiping the second wave of tears from her face. Jack’s insides churned with immense guilt, and though he himself felt awful, he could not imagine how Katherine was feeling at this moment. He wished there had been another way.</p><p>After a couple of sniffles, she finally said, “This is it then?”</p><p>Before he could react, Katherine grabbed him by the neck and kissed him.</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>When Elsa reached the courtyard door, it was already ajar. She edged closer to it apprehensively; it was open enough to let her peek through without being seen yet.</p><p>What she saw, however, was <em>not</em> what she had been expecting.</p><p>Though his back was towards her, his pearly white locks gave him away. Jack’s head dipped forward, and another pair of small hands circled around his neck, fiddling with the ends of his hair at the base. <em>No, </em>she thought. <em>He wouldn’t… he couldn’t. </em>Elsa opened the door slightly wider and when she saw Katherine’s familiar auburn hair, with her lips on Jack’s, Elsa had to stifle the painful cry that rose in the back of her throat with her hand.</p><p>Elsa took a staggering step back from the door. She couldn’t breathe, her chest felt tight and she wanted to <em>scream</em>. Her eyes felt hot and she couldn’t blink the tears away, so she let them spill over the corners of her eyes as they welled up. Oh, how could she be such a fool?</p><p>Jack was in love with someone else, and it seemed as though he always had been. How stupid of her to believe, to <em>hope, </em>that that someone could be her.</p><p>She needed to get away—<em>far away</em>. Though she had already turned from the door, her entire world pulsated on just the mental image of <em>them</em> kissing. It was a vicious black abyss that was trying to suck her in relentlessly, a gaping, suffocating hole from which she had to escape. So she picked up her skirts and ran down the hall with abandon, the loud clacking of her heels on the floor bouncing off the walls. Before she could turn the corner, with eyes blurred by tears and mind dazed with overwhelming hurt, she collided painfully with something tall, rigid, and apparently grumpy.</p><p>“Watch it, y—” Bunnymund hissed in annoyance, but as he steadied her by the shoulders and saw the tears falling freely down her face, his expression slowly turned into one of worry. “Your Highness?”</p><p>Elsa was still covering her mouth with her hand; even if she took it away, she would not have been able to form a single word. She broke away from his grip instead and continued running, around the corner and up the stairs two at a time—a feat that was surprisingly easy despite her heels and skirts and numbing limbs. She was panting and sobbing audibly now, and the combined noises took a toll on her already dry throat. As soon as Elsa closed her door and locked it behind her, she doubled over as if to vomit, the pain that gripped her chest in a vice making her fall to her knees.</p><p>No matter how dry and constricted her throat already was, she just could not stop keening. It reminded her of one of her lowest days when she was younger, when her consciousness would give out from all the crying and the burden of guilt. Elsa backed herself against the edge of her bed, one hand soothing over her chest while the other clamped down on her mouth as she sobbed. Stupid, <em>stupid girl! </em>In the high of her emotions, she’d completely forgotten that Jack was already in love with another—even stupider was that she <em>believed </em>that her feelings for him had been reciprocated. If there was any point of clarity, past the tears and the pain, that she could hold on to as her world reeled, it was the glaringly simple, harshest truth she’d ever had the misfortune of accepting: <em>she may have his hand, but she will never hold his heart.</em></p><p>Elsa cried until her tears were spent. By the time her eyes ran dry, and her breaths were shallow and forced through a congested nose, Elsa felt incredibly hollow. She stared into the empty space in front of her for what felt like hours, then her eyes wandered over to the puzzle box on one of her trunks—the proof of her own stupidity, evidence of the foolish whims of a girl who thought she knew what love was. Elsa stood up weakly, carrying the box with two hands as she walked over to her fireplace. Her grip hardened on the box, her nails digging slightly into the wood as her fingers trembled in anger; she wanted to chuck the entire thing in the fire and watch it burn. Instead she craned her stiff neck skyward, and after taking a breath as deep as her stuffed nose would allow, she finally set the box back on the trunk. She had never wanted to go home so badly. She went to her washstand to freshen up, then left her room to find St. North.</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>Jack broke the kiss immediately. He pushed her off with a tad more force than necessary, lips stinging as though he had been poisoned. “What was that for?” he demanded.</p><p>Katherine’s eyes grew dark like the sky before a thunderstorm. “Farewell, <em>Lord Frost,”</em> was all she said, casting a glance at the door behind him before turning on her heel to leave without a backward glance.</p><p>Greatly confused, Jack walked to the door; he could hear the echoes of running footsteps before he even reached it. Near the end of the hallway stood an equally confused Bunnymund. “What was that?” he asked as he approached the older man.</p><p>Puzzled green eyes met his own blue ones. “Did you have an argument, by any chance?” asked Bunnymund.</p><p>“With who?”</p><p>“The princess. She was running from the courtyard and <em>crying.”</em></p><p><em>Oh no, </em>he thought, his entire being overflowing with dread. <em>Had Elsa </em>seen<em> them?</em></p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>Jack spent the remaining hours of the day looking for Elsa. She wasn’t in her room when he left Bunnymund in the hallway, nor was she in the drawing room or the library. But every time he asked a passing servant, they would tell him that they saw her one area of the keep or another. It was as if she was always just a step ahead of him, not too far away but also not quite within his reach—and it was <em>frustrating.</em></p><p>By now he knew that she saw him with Katherine. His only hope was that she would let him explain before things got worse.</p><p>He sat dejectedly at the dining table, worriedly glancing once every few seconds at the empty seat before him as though its occupant would magically appear. The chatter around him sounded distant and murky—he vaguely heard Toothiana mention replacing one of the servants, who disappeared earlier this afternoon. Jack wanted a hole to open on the ground beneath his chair and swallow him whole.</p><p>He was broken out of his stupor when the conversation between Mattias and St. North caught his attention. “Come again?” he asked.</p><p>“I was just asking General Mattias if their preparations were set for tomorrow,” St. North repeated.</p><p>“Yes, I heard that,” Jack said impatiently. “But what for?”</p><p>St. North raised a thick, bushy eyebrow. “I assumed she would tell you,” he began. “Princess Elsa approached me this afternoon with an idea to mislead the rebels by departing for Arendelle earlier than what was planned. Quite frankly, I thought it was a brilliant idea, so they will be set to leave tomorrow at first light.”</p><p>Jack nodded in acknowledgement very stiffly, resisting the bang his forehead on the surface of the table in front of him. He focused instead on scarfing down his food. Anything to distract him from overthinking the situation. Mattias, taking notice of his sudden change in mood, added in a very slow and cautious manner, “Seeing as the princess did not seem to inform you of her plan, I believe I should also tell you that she wished to travel unaccompanied.”</p><p>Jack nearly choked on his meat.</p><p>“You and Lord Bunnymund will no longer be joining us back—”</p><p>Jack rose from his chair. “I have to speak with her.”</p><p>“Elsa does not want to be disturbed, my lord—” Mattias warned, but Jack was already halfway out of the Great Hall, taking long stomping strides up the stairs and into his room. He should have gone directly to Elsa’s room instead, but he needed to clear his mind and think first. Why would she deliberately leave without him? Was it because of Katherine earlier? What exactly had Elsa seen?</p><p>He paced the entire length of his chambers restlessly, burning a tread on his carpet as the minutes ticked by. He would speak to her in private later when everyone else was asleep. He had to try and make her understand.</p><p>He can’t lose her.</p><p>Jack only noticed that his gift for Elsa was still in his breast pocket after he stripped down to his vest and shirtsleeves, the top of the rectangular silver box peeking from within his coat. He sighed deeply, sinking down on his lush chair and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, rubbing his temples with one hand while the other fidgeted with the box. How was it that the recent events only took place on this day? The emotional stress that wore him out was equivalent to a week’s worth of work, if not more. He was wrung out and bone tired, but he did not sleep. He waited for the grandfather clock to chime, and then he quietly slipped out of his room.</p><p>Jack stood before Elsa’s door as the last toll of the eleventh hour reverberated through the quiet halls. It felt as though the sound had sealed his sentence, and he was a convict waiting in silent resignation for his punishment. Before he could even knock, his heart froze when he heard it—the faint tinkling of music from the lower floor.</p><p>He held his breath as he trudged down the steps. Jack entered the drawing room and he could not help but exhale a sigh of relief because there she was, slouched at the pianoforte, playing a slow, sad melody that tugged at his heart. She was in her night clothes, her skin blending with the ghostly white linen that glowed in the dimly fire-lit room. Her hair, loose and flowing, was tossed over both her shoulders, the tips reaching up to the small of her back. There was also an empty glass of what appeared to be milk on top of the pianoforte, and he wondered how long she’d been sitting here.</p><p>If she had heard him approach, she did not acknowledge it. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he muttered. “Congratulations are in order; it’s not everyday that someone manages to evade me in my own house.”</p><p>He had meant to say the words jokingly, but it escaped in a deadpan tone despite his intentions. Elsa did not stop playing, nor did she look at him. The piece she played, though slow and soft, held notes of growing apprehension and danger; he felt as though he was approaching a poised panther, with its tail swishing from side to side in anticipation. “St. North told me you were leaving tomorrow,” he continued, straining to keep his voice level despite her lack of response. His blood simmered. “Do we have a problem?”</p><p>In a manner that was completely unlike her, Elsa made a noise somewhere between a snort and a scoff. When the piece came to a rest, Elsa straightened and drawled, “How’s Katherine, Jack?”</p><p>Jack was suddenly rooted in place. So she <em>had </em>seen them. But then… why was she mad? He pushed Katherine off. She left him. Did Elsa not see <em>that?</em></p><p>“Elsa, please, it’s not what you think—” he began.</p><p>“What <em>I</em> think—” she snarled, fingers flying angrily across the keyboard. Her fingers coaxed a building crescendo from the pianoforte, unashamedly conveying the hurt and pain and betrayal in every single note, “—is that I have been a proper <em>fool</em> for you, <em>Jackson Overland Frost.”</em></p><p>He flinched at the way she spat his name as if it were poison in her mouth. She turned to him then; her eyes were glistening with so much anger and gut-wrenching hurt, the fire burning behind her wrapping her in a fiery aura, her pale hair a glowing halo upon her head. “And like the bloody fool that I am, I had hoped that your affections had changed with time. God, I was stupid enough to believe that maybe it already had.”</p><p>“But it <em>did,”</em> he begged. “You just don’t understand—”</p><p>Her hands slammed on the keys in an awful, discordant noise. She stood from the piano, forcefully knocking over the piano bench. Her chest heaved with barely restrained emotion. “That’s the problem, is it not—I <em>don’t</em> understand. I’m just a <em>stupid</em> girl who thought that if I could not marry for love, then I could at least settle for the next best thing!”</p><p>She stepped away from the piano, turning halfway towards the fireplace as she massaged her palms. A single tear fell from her eye, and he almost rushed to kneel at her feet, hug her legs and beg for mercy. “But I… I can’t, Jack. Not when I know what<em> ‘more’</em> feels like,” she confessed, her voice shaky, barely above a whisper.</p><p>Jack’s mouth felt as dry as the desert in the afternoon sun; he was speechless. Cutting his still beating heart out of his chest would be less painful than seeing Elsa’s anguish, than watching her struggle not to cry because of <em>him</em>. But this image of vulnerability was quickly replaced by her rigid posture, blank stare and unfamiliar cold blue eyes. Elsa moved to push past him, her stomping strides loud and purposeful. He grabbed her wrist as she walked past, “Elsa, I’m sorry—”</p><p>“Don’t—”</p><p>“Let me explain, <em>please—”</em></p><p>“I said don’t!”</p><p>She twisted out of his grip to face him, and once again his soul felt crushed at the raw pain in her eyes, at the anger in the set of her jaw. <em>How could you? </em>she seemed to say.</p><p>Elsa exhaled a ragged breath. She was still within his reach, but he couldn’t bring himself to touch her, even to brush away another tear that escaped her iron will. “Just… don’t. I may not know much about love still, but I <em>do</em> know that I cannot play the fool any longer. The pain… my heart… <em>I won’t survive it.”</em></p><p>With a swish of her white night dress, she was gone, and for the second time, he was alone in the drawing room, heart and soul torn to pieces on the floor by his feet that was a miracle that he was still standing. Jack slowly paced with his hands on his hips, ever so often scratching the back of his head, or burying his face in his hands, in his frustration with himself. His eye then caught the poor bench Elsa had knocked over, and he bent over to set it back to its original position. He noticed a small, crumpled piece of paper lying on the floor. He picked it up and stood next to the fireplace to read what was written on it: <em>Meet me in the courtyard.</em></p><p>This was Katherine’s handwriting.</p><p>The paper made an audible crunch when his fist balled around it, as he stormed out of the drawing room and into the night.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: Thank you once again for being so patient with my updates. This one was longer than what I normally limit myself to, but it is hefty and thanks to you, I found it easy and freeing to be able to write longer chapters :) I apologize for the sudden shifts in POV but I think it adds to the drama in this chapter (I had this play out like a movie scene in my head, so I kind of wrote it with that scene in mind)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BEING SO PATIENT UGGHHHH I CANNOT STRESS ENOUGH HOW I APPRECIATE IT!!! </p><p>It's just really been a hectic week especially with finals coming up :( anyhow here's the next update and I hope you enjoy reading! </p><p>BTW I do like reading the comments :) they truly do make my day whenever I'm feeling low about academics and not being able to post for you guys so, thank you to all who're still here and to those who've left a kind word or two :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The journey to the docks was as gloomy as the weather, though the sky had started to transition to a lovely lavender shade. She could hear no sound beyond the rattling of her carriage and the muffled trampling of hooves on the snow-covered ground. Across from her sat Mattias, whose gaze frequently shifted from the window to her sulking form in the corner—no doubt regarding with concern the dark shadows underneath her eyes, which Elsa knew still stood out against her sickly pale skin despite the cosmetics she attempted to use to conceal them.</p><p>The general made no move to spark a conversation about it, and for that, Elsa was grateful. The silence was lonely but peaceful, almost calming, the constant shaking of the carriage rocking her to drowsiness. She had stopped crying the night before, right after she left the drawing room—after she left <em>him. </em>It was the empty feeling in her chest that kept her wide awake, that ate away at her insides until the birds started to sing and she was set to leave.</p><p>
  <em>Control it. Don’t feel.</em>
</p><p>She wanted to remove herself from Burgess—she was grateful that St. North even considered her idea, because for her, it meant that she could be <em>alone. </em>It would have been harder to distract herself from all of her turbulent emotions if she remained within the halls where they walked together, or if she sat by the piano where they last spoke. Or went to the library where she told him about her family’s dark past. Or ate with him at the table in the Great Hall, where he’d kiss her on the cheek before he left for the day. Or even if she stayed in her bedroom, where she could see from her window the spot where they had kissed in the gardens under the snowy sky.</p><p>
  <em>Conceal it, don’t feel it. Don’t let it show.</em>
</p><p>As in everything in her life, her first lesson in love had to be <em>pain. </em></p><p>The carriage halted and Elsa blinked the dryness from her eyes, realizing that she had been staring off into space for far too long. Mattias got out first, then helped her down after. Her boots sunk through the thin blanket of fresh snow covering the earth. The sky was bright enough that she could see the stone steps that led down to the ship past her dove gray dress, her heavy, black hooded cape lightly dragging the snow behind her. The massive hood obscured half of her face from an outsider’s view, her untied hair spilling down the sides of her neck. Her breaths emerged as thick puffs of mist through her mouth by the time she reached the dock. Mattias helped her walk up the gangway—and her heart sank when her eyes immediately landed on him.</p><p>He was dressed as meticulously as ever; gone were his light, playful blues, replaced by darker shades that looked almost gray in the early dawn light, reminding her of the waves in the Dark Sea. It made the color of his irises stand out more vibrantly. Specs of powdery white snow dusted his long black cape, one side flipped over his shoulder, revealing the silver lining with a swirling brocade pattern underneath. Beside him stood Bunnymund, wrapped in what seemed to be more than enough layers of warm clothes, his jaw clenched tightly against the bitter chill. Elsa released Mattias’ helping hand and removed her hood. “What are you doing here?” she demanded quietly.</p><p>Jack gave a cursory bow in greeting. “I understand your wishes, Your Highness, and I must apologize for deliberately going against them,” he began, his gaze locked on hers. There was still hope in those icy pools of blue—the <em>audacity! </em>Elsa felt her eyes harden and strained to keep her face impassive, forcing the muscles above her brows to smooth over. <em>Why are you doing this to me? </em>“But I’ve a feeling that the King won’t be too pleased to hear that I was not able to accompany you. After all, I am still making up for what happened in the woods.”</p><p>Elsa ground her teeth in mild annoyance, straightening her posture and nodding stiffly in acknowledgement. She spoke in a low, commanding voice to Mattias over her shoulder. “I will be in my quarters, general. I must rest. Do ensure that I am <em>not</em> to be disturbed.”</p><p>“Yes, Your Grace.”</p><p>She made sure she spoke loud enough for Jack to hear her words, specifically her last sentence. Elsa made no attempt to mask the hurt in her eyes as she walked right past Jack, coldly ignoring his downcast stare as his eyes followed her until she disappeared below deck.</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>Mattias followed Elsa to the cabins, a hard look in his eye as he passed Jack. He had a feeling that the general knew something had happened between them, and the urge to throw himself off the port side of the ship and sink into the depths of the sea grew exponentially.</p><p>Bunnymund gruffly exhaled next to him. “It was stupid of us to come here,” he managed to say through chattering teeth. “More precisely, it was stupid of <em>you </em>to drag me into this.” The older man proceeded to complain about the cold as the crew prepared to set sail. “They haven’t hoisted the anchor yet; you still have a chance to get off this boat,” Jack grumbled, cutting off Bunnymund mid-complaint.</p><p>“Ah, but so do <em>you,” </em>Bunnymund retorted. “I do not know what occurred between you, but it’s clear to me that our dear princess does not want you to be here.”</p><p>“Do you think I do not know that?” Jack ran his fingers through his hair in anguish, itching to pace the entire width of the deck. The sound of heavy chains told him that the anchor was being hoisted, and soon the ship was easing its way out of the shallows; <em>no turning back now, </em>he thought. It might have been the swaying motion of the ship, or the guilt making his knees feel suddenly very weak, but he had to brace his elbows on the nearest taffrail and drop his head into his hands.</p><p>He felt Bunnymund stand next to him,still bouncing on the balls of his feet and rubbing his arms furiously against the cold. “She believed in you, you know,” Bunnymund said. “More than I ever did.”</p><p>Jack looked up at him—he wasn’t sure where Bunnymund was going with this, but the mention of Elsa believing in him made him feel ten times worse. There was a foreign softness in Bunnymund’s features, however, which replaced his usual grumpiness. “You surprised me these past weeks—for the first time, I saw what the Tsar might have seen in you when he made you a lord.”</p><p>“Don’t hold your breath, old man,” Jack replied miserably, “I’ve yet to ruin things, as I always tend to do—if I’ve not ruined everything already.”</p><p> Bunnymund chuckled at his melodramatic tone. Jack only rolled his eyes. “Making mistakes is normal—we <em>are</em> only people, after all. You’ll have to forgive me for holding that against you more harshly than I should have, even if you are the <em>worst</em> pain in the neck I’ve ever had to deal with.”</p><p>Jack’s lips curled into a smirk as he watched the docks shrink the farther they got out to sea. He was mesmerized by the breaking water below, by the smooth waves rolling from where the ship sliced through it. The breeze ruffled his hair, and the cold bit the skin on his face and chilled his nose as he inhaled deeply. Bunnymund was, for once, good company, but his mind still wandered to Elsa, and how he wished it was her standing next to him as he stared at the horizon. The sun had just risen, and it was cloudy enough that its glorious rays were still hazy around the edges, painting the sky with soft, beautiful colors. He would have wanted to watch <em>her</em> watch the dawn unfold, maybe hold her hand in his as they marveled at the picturesque view. His smile faded at the thought. “I just want to make things right between us,” he murmured.</p><p>“Well, you've come this far,” Bunnymund huffed. “Why stop now? There’s only so many things you can do on a ship in the middle of the sea for a week.”</p><p>Jack snorted glumly, and then continued to brood. Bunnymund clapped him on the back twice before leaving the deck. He was alone except for the crew walking past, his cape billowing in the winter breeze. He pulled the silver box, his talisman, out of his coat pocket, running his fingers along the edges, twirling the white silk ribbon around his index finger absently.</p><p>Despite how their relationship was born out of an arranged betrothal, Jack grew to care deeply for Elsa; there was no denying that the feelings he had for her were deeply rooted in his core at this point. He had forgotten what it felt like, to care for and to love another's soul apart from his own. What he felt for her went beyond a partnership—for the first time since the announcement of their betrothal, he had begun to imagine what it would be like to build a life with Elsa. He wanted to be there for her when the nightmares came to haunt her in her sleep. He wanted to support her for when she inherits the crown, and in everything he knew she could achieve. He wanted to make her laugh everyday and bask in her happiness.</p><p>The fear that he might not have those anymore was eating his soul from the inside out. If not for the fact that he still had hope, he would not have even bothered to come here. So, he would try.</p><p>He <em>had </em>to try.</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>Elsa managed to get a few hours of sleep in before she woke in a cold sweat, sitting bolt upright in her bed and panting. She’d dreamt that Jack took her by the hand in the woods during the springtime, and that they were happily running barefoot through the trees when he suddenly disappeared. As she went to look for him, the plants around her withered as the winter evening rolled in. She found Anna as a child instead, cold and shivering, half-buried in the snow. She immediately ran to her sister’s aid, but as she knelt beside her, she disappeared as well. Then the voice of the man that attacked her in the forests of Santoff Claussen crept up behind her, swallowing her in darkness, promising to hurt her sister and Jack. In her dream, she was screaming.</p><p>Prone as she was to nightmares, Elsa learned early on not to scream in the real world. She did not want to frighten her sister, who she shared a bedroom with for years. More importantly, it gave her a small sense of control over her demons as she slept; to her, it meant that they stayed <em>in </em>her dreams, for they would have manifested into the real world if she cried her throat hoarse.</p><p>The distant sloshing of water against the hull was comforting, but the rocking of the ship was quickly turning into a nuisance. Elsa never had a problem with closed and tight spaces, except for when she was onboard a ship—a floating chunk of wood in the middle of the ocean was isolation in and of itself, and her tiny cabin only instilled in her the fact that she truly had no other place to go.</p><p>Mattias brought her lunch to her cabin, where she ate tidbits even as the food turned cold. She passed the rest of the afternoon alternating between reading a book and taking naps. But after picking up the same book for the fourth time and not making it past a single page without feeling nauseous, Elsa finally decided that it was time to leave her musty cabin for a little while.</p><p>She donned her hooded cape and quietly left her stateroom, carefully trudging up the stairs to the upper deck. The sun was about to set; the sky was filled with the warring colors of day and night in shades of fiery orange and rich violet. The stars were starting to come out as the last of the sun’s rays started to dissipate. Elsa made it to the bow of the ship, the wind blowing through her loose hair and cape. The smell of the sea filled her nose as she inhaled and closed her eyes. Despite everything, she was still happy to be headed home. Now more than ever, she yearned for the comfort of her mother's embrace and her sister's presence. It might take her time to fully disentangle her messy emotions and open up to them but—</p><p>She heard the floorboards creak behind her and the sound of heavy boots reached her ears. She exhaled sharply; she just wanted <em>one</em> moment of peace.</p><p>“Elsa—”</p><p>“Your presence is unwarranted <em>enough</em> on this ship,” she said to Jack, the sharp edge in her voice from when she first met him making a reappearance. “You know, I proposed this idea to St. North so that I could get away from <em>you. </em>I wanted time and space to clear my head of <em>you </em>and <em>you denied me that.”</em></p><p>She could feel him flinch at his words, heard him inhale at the end of her sentence but he continued nonetheless. “I know. I <em>am </em>sorry. But you have to listen to me first. You have to let me explain.”</p><p>“There is no need,” she said in feigned nonchalance, casual poison dripping from her tone. She avoided his gaze, focusing instead on the reflection of the sunlight on the water until black spots danced in her vision. That did not stop her from seeing him in her periphery though, or from feeling the heat radiating from his body as he stood close to her. “Elsa, look at me.”</p><p>Surprised at the silent entreaty in his voice, she turned to him then, her dispassionate mask already in place. He was closer than she thought he was; their chests slightly brushed with every heave of the ship. He was so close that she could see the patterns of electric and darker blue in his irises. His lips were pursed and berry red, and it took every bit of Elsa’s willpower not to look nor even glance at them.</p><p>Jack held out a piece of paper in his hand. “It was <em>Katherine. </em>She wrote this. She was waiting for me in the courtyard and she led you straight to us.”</p><p>Elsa eyed the note skeptically as he passed it to her hands, looking at the words <em>Meet me in the courtyard </em>written on it. “It was a trap for us both.”</p><p>She wanted to believe him. But the memory of him kissing the servant girl flashed in her mind’s eye, and she clenched her jaw, her fist balling around the wretched piece of parchment. “Regardless, you seemed to <em>enjoy </em>her company.” She moved to walk away, but Jack caught her arm firmly, the force not enough to jostle her but still sufficient to earn him a pointed glare. “Yes, she kissed me,” he began, and when Elsa laughed mirthlessly, he quickly followed with, “but I pushed her off. We were in the middle of an argument and then <em>she </em>kissed <em>me. </em>I didn’t understand why at the time, but now I do.”</p><p>“Oh, do tell,” Elsa mumbled sarcastically.</p><p>“She wanted you to <em>see,” </em>he pleaded, desperation seeping unashamedly into his voice, “I would never hurt you intentionally. Elsa, please, you have to believe me—”</p><p>“Why should I?” she snapped, angrily shoving his hand from her arm. Jack stepped back a little, mouth slack in hurt and confusion. “Bunnymund said that you believe in me. I know that you still do—”</p><p>“That was before you betrayed my trust.” <em>And broke my heart for good measure. </em></p><p>“I didn’t mean for that to happen.” She saw his hand twitch, but instead of reaching for her it buried itself in his own hair. “I’m sorry. I want to make things right. I want to go back to how things were, between us.”</p><p>Elsa wanted to laugh aloud. <em>I want that too. </em>“We can’t.”</p><p>“But why—”</p><p>“We <em>just </em>can’t!”</p><p>Elsa turned away from him, crossing her arms across her chest tightly to keep her hands from shaking. Jack made no move to approach her, not in a way she could sense. She could almost picture his heart as it bled for her; she could hear it calling her name, begging her to turn around and take him back.</p><p>“Is there any hope left for us?” he asked quietly.</p><p>The pain in those whispered words was another stab through her heart, right next to the still-healing first from when she saw them in the courtyard. In truth, Elsa did not know. But what she <em>did </em>know was that she could never allow herself that much <em>hope </em>for a second time. Her fragile heart, frozen and cold, would not survive if it were offered on a silver platter again, only to shatter under the pain of love once more. Elsa forced her voice through the lump that had lodged itself in the back of her throat, unaware of the tears that had welled in her eyes. “We are but two strangers doomed to an arranged marriage. <em>Nothing</em> more.”</p><p>She heard him heave a heavy sigh before he left without another word. Elsa watched him go, and wondered if <em>this</em> was what he felt when it was he who watched her leave—there was this sudden weight crushing her chest, as regret flooded through the hole in her heart that was left after the anger and hurt had receded. She turned back to the sea, hastily wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. She realized that was still holding the piece of paper that Katherine had presumably written, the catalyst that brought her budding relationship with Jack to destruction.</p><p>Elsa tossed the thrice-damned parchment off the ship with a fury and watched the wind carry it far away before it landed on the cold, unforgiving sea. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WARNING: I changed the warnings of this story and added "graphic depictions of violence" (though personally it's not that graphic because I suck at writing that)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elsa curled up in her slim bed, wrapped tightly in her blanket, unable to sleep. She had eaten dinner with Mattias and Bunnymund in the captain’s cabin, but her appetite quickly waned when Jack did not join them. She had left the table before the others did, wondering all the while what to do. Should she go to him? Even now as she lay still and wide awake, watching the slivers of moonlight seeping through the porthole, her thoughts had not reached a conclusion. Should she apologize? She felt that she should not have let her anger and hurt overcome her; if the bitter aftertaste of her words still stung her lips, she could only imagine what Jack must be feeling right now.</p><p><em>Fool girl, </em>her mind would scold her, <em>you wanted to be alone.</em></p><p>
  <em>I did not want to hurt him in the process.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And yet you pushed him away.</em>
</p><p>Elsa turned to lie flat on her back, pressing the heels of her palms against her eye sockets with a groan until she saw multicolored stars. She was miserable enough already being hurt by Jack—now, the regret from hurting <em>him</em> deepened that agony. She had never been so unsure of her emotions before, and the last time they had been this chaotic was when her father closed the gates. Her head throbbed from the conflicting and screaming voices of her mind and heart. She was stuck in the middle of the two, unsure of which to follow, for every time she took a step towards her heart, her mind would pull her back with thoughts that filled her with doubt and reminded her of her ever-present fear.</p><p>There were no clocks in her cabin, but she had a feeling that it <em>way</em> past midnight. After a few more futile attempts at sleep, Elsa sat up and felt the urge to visit the upper deck again. She imagined that he would be up there, snowy white hair ruffled by the wind, staring at the moon as if it would give him answers. Maybe she could join him and ask the moon for answers, too.</p><p>Her nightdress was thick, made of heavier linen, but she still picked up her magenta cloak as she headed out the door. Sounds of creaking and snoring filled the lower deck, which was lit only by a few swaying lamps that hung from posts. She paused by the stairs that led up and out of the gloomy lower deck. What if he <em>was</em> there? What would she say? She was not sure whether she had already forgiven him, or if she even should. <em>Should she apologize?</em></p><p>Elsa bit her lip, ignoring her pounding heart as she climbed up, holding her breath as she stepped out onto the upper deck—which was empty. Her heart sank a little. But just as she thought, the moon shone brightly against the clear, starry sky, its light dancing on the inky black surface of the sea below. She crossed the deck to the port side, resting her hands on the cool surface of the wood and glancing up at the moon.</p><p><em>How come the person I miss the most is the one that hurt me? </em>she wanted to ask. <em>Should I forgive him? Can he forgive me?</em></p><p>Heaving a sigh, she leaned forward on the taffrail, absently picking at her nails. Fear had such a hold on her; she was surprised she could still function with it constantly weighing down on her shoulders. It was nice that she could let it all go whenever she was around Jack. However comfortable she might be with her own family now, it was still difficult for her to be as relaxed, as carefree, with them. Afterall, the last time that happened, Anna nearly died.</p><p>This new fear that gripped her heart was not like what she experienced in her youth, nor was it like when she thought she would die in the woods in Santoff Claussen. This fear was what bothered her, and this was always the one thought that stopped her from forgiving him. She had been at her most vulnerable with Jack—he had seen her at her lowest, and she had openly shared with him the memories that haunted her, but he <em>still</em> betrayed her trust. Coincidence or not, her fear then lies with the question: what if that happened again? <em>I won’t survive it, </em>she had told him. And it was true.</p><p>The sound of shattering glass broke her from her reverie. She glanced up toward the sound—it came from the quarterdeck, which, even by moonlight, seemed to be empty. Elsa squinted hard, heart in her throat as she approached the stairs that led up to the helm. Something wasn’t right; the helm was unmanned. Elsa barely made it halfway up when she saw the helmsman on the floor, blood steadily oozing out of the deep gash on the side of his head. Her hand flew to her mouth to contain her gasp, staggering back a few steps as quietly as she could.</p><p>Elsa scampered to hide underneath the stairs, scanning the deck from the gaps in between the steps for suspicious shadows skulking about. She couldn’t stay here—she had to warn the others. She could run below deck, but something else caught her eye: the alarm bell hanging from the main mast. Her knees wobbled and her blood sang with adrenaline. She could make it.</p><p>Then she heard the helm being turned, and she felt the ship change course as it did. Heavy footsteps sounded from directly above her, and she nearly jumped when a pair of boots started to descend the steps where she was hiding. She pressed herself flat against the wall as best as she could, hoping that the shadows will hide her garish outfit. She just <em>had </em>to wear her stupid magenta cloak.</p><p>Her view was now shrouded by a hulking figure, and as more men descended the stairs on the other side, she saw, to her horror, that they were all armed with swords that glinted in the moonlight.</p><p>“Take no prisoners. We can man this ship on our own. Leave the princess unharmed,” the man near her hiding place commanded.</p><p><em>Take no prisoners. </em>Her hands were cold but not from the air around them, and her knees were shaking so furiously that she was amazed their uninvited guests couldn’t hear her bones rattling. But her eyes never left the main mast, trained determinedly on that little bell and the string that dangled from it.</p><p>Elsa held her breath. She would make it.</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>The sound of the alarm bell awoke him with a jolt, its ringing easily piercing through his shallow slumber. Jack quickly pulled on a pair of trousers and his shoes, grabbed his new spear and shouldered his way out the door.</p><p>Chaos had erupted outside his stateroom. The lower deck was filled with moving shadows and clanging swords. <em>How on earth had the rebels followed them here?</em></p><p>He pushed past the foray of half-asleep men fighting off the rebels, making a beeline for Elsa’s room, occasionally knocking a rebel or two unconscious with the butt his spear. He had to get to <em>her</em>. He had to protect <em>her—</em></p><p>Her door was ajar.</p><p>Panic seized him and Jack quickly doubled back, racing to the stairs that led to the upper deck. As he emerged from the opening, he saw Mattias fighting off two men at the same time near the starboard side, and Bunnymund on the quarterdeck with his boomerangs. Jack always thought that fighting with boomerangs was odd and impractical, but Bunnymund was highly skilled at it, so he had neglected to say anything further. Jack pushed forward, charging at the nearest enemy with his spear at hand. He easily dodged the man’s sword as he charged, swinging his spear around to pierce the man’s back. The man fell, gurgling and choking on his own blood. They seemed to be out-numbered; how these bandits got onboard was beyond him, and he needed to find <em>her—</em></p><p>“Let go of me!”</p><p>His blood ran cold, eyes widening at the sound of her cry. He pulled the spear out of the man’s  back and whipped around. A group of men were struggling to untie one of the lifeboats. Elsa fought to free herself, trying to kick at the man holding her by the ankles while clawing at another that held her by the arms. Jack rushed over to her, expertly leaping over the hole that led to the lower deck, and simultaneously throwing his spear at the man’s back. The man dropped to his knees, taking Elsa’s upper body with him. It gave her leverage, though; she was able to kick the one who had grabbed hold of her feet in the groin. Jack pulled the spear out, which now glistened crimson, and expertly twirled it around, giving him a wide berth between the remaining assailants and Elsa. One of them was familiar: the man with the eye-patch. Jack narrowed his eyes at him, threateningly aiming his bloodied spear at him.</p><p>The eye-patched man merely grinned maliciously. “We meet again, my lord,” he leered.</p><p>“Your lot doesn’t care much for invitation, I see,” Jack replied through gritted teeth. One of the men stepped forward with his saber raised. Jack quickly sliced his inner thigh with the pointed, dagger-like blade at the end of his spear, then subsequently hit the man across his head with it as he fell. Elsa ducked to pick the saber up from the ground; he noticed flecks of blood staining her blonde hair. She held it awkwardly in her trembling hands. Jack was unsure why she did it in the first place, but as soon as her blade met another attacker’s, he realized that she was quite adept at handling a sword—she matched every move her attacker made, blocking his blows until she disarmed him with a careful, practiced maneuver. <em>Fencing, </em>he realized.</p><p>“Jack, look out!” Bunnymund yelled, and it only took a second for Jack to realize what was about to happen—he ducked just in time as the blunt side of the boomerang collided with the eye-patched man’s face, knocking him off balance. With his attention back to fighting, he took the man’s surprise to his advantage and charged with his spear. Jack kicked the man and he fell to the ground, narrowly missing the blade of his spear as Jack swung it around. He had fallen next to his sword; his meaty hand gripped the hilt and he charged forward, crouching low to the ground and aiming for Jack’s legs. But Jack was quicker and lighter on his feet. He could sense the eye-patched man’s growing frustration as he kept missing Jack by a hair’s breadth. Jack brought his spear down—the man blocked the blow with his blade and used it to twist the spear out of his way while his other hand reached for and closed around Jack’s throat.</p><p>“Still trying to be the hero, boy?” the man drawled as he straightened, lifting Jack off his feet as he did. His vision was quickly fading to black, and all he could hear was the gasping noises he made as his mouth gaped for air. The eye-patched man chuckled, and just as he was about to lose consciousness, he felt the oddest sensation of falling, right before the cold and dark swallowed him whole.</p><p>
  
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>“Jack!” Elsa cried. She watched the eye-patched man throw him off the ship as if he were no more than a rag doll. The man turned around, his evil grin making his visible eye glint like a cat’s in the dark. She gripped her saber and ran to the railing. His massive arms swung at her, and she ducked out of their way, moving past him and swinging her blade. He managed to grab her sword arm, however—he gave it a sharp twist and Elsa gasped as pain shot up her entire arm, causing her to drop the weapon.</p><p>He spun her around so that her back was flat against his chest with his arm wrapped across her neck, pulling her back from the rail. She coughed and tried to pry his arm away from her windpipe. “No one will save you now, princess,” her whispered with a gruff voice in her ear. “The rebellion is afoot. Arendelle shall fall. But <em>you </em>can stop all that.”</p><p>Her nails dug deep into her captor’s arm, causing the man to chuckle raspily. “No one else has to die,” he said, in a tone that she deduced was meant to be comforting. “Just surrender to us.”</p><p>Dark spots clouded her vision. She fumbled for something, anything—then she felt a dangling blade pressing against the back of her leg. Before the eye-patched man knew what she was doing, she gripped the hilt, unsheathed the blade and buried it deep into the man’s thigh.</p><p>The eye-patched man yowled in pain—even louder was his cry as Elsa twisted the blade while it was still jammed into his upper thigh. She pushed him off her and without wasting a breath, she chucked her cloack off, climbed over the railing and jumped into the murky sea below.</p><p>The water hit her harshly as she plunged beneath the surface, assaulting her senses with nothing but the piercing cold. Her skin tingled as if a thousand needles were endlessly poking at it, her every movement sending a new ripple of shivers throughout her body. Elsa tried to think past the icy shock, forcing her eyes to open and to search the inky darkness of the sea for Jack. She prayed that the moonlight would show through, even for just a split second, just long enough for her to find him. She needed to save <em>him</em>—</p><p>The moon seemed to hear her prayer; she spotted his glowing white hair in a sea of black, already sinking quickly beneath her. With renewed strength, Elsa kicked her legs, ignoring the ringing in her ears as she swam deeper, arms flailing wildly until she felt the cloth of Jack’s shirt at her fingertips. She grabbed a fistful of the fabric and began to kick up. Her lungs burned for air, and it was the only thing that kept her going at the moment, past the mind-numbing cold, the involuntary need to <em>breathe</em>.</p><p>When at last she broke the surface, her first breath made her throat and lungs freeze over that she gasped in pain. She pulled Jack up with a grunt until his head floated atop the water, looping her arm under his armpits to keep him afloat. Her teeth chattered viciously, her face already numb from the cold. Jack was unconscious, unresponsive to the hoarse cries of his name that left Elsa’s lips. She had to get him out of the sea, out of the cold that was sucking the life out of him. She screamed for help, but the dryness of her throat made it impossible for anyone on deck to hear. She tried to move her free arm, heavy with the soaked linen and numb from the cold, forcing it to splash around despite the convulsions that were starting to override her body.</p><p>“Here!”</p><p>“Get a line!”</p><p>“Move! Quickly!”</p><p>She looked up to see one of the crew climbing down the set of steps on the walls of the ship, with a rope shaped like a noose falling down from deck. Elsa forced her legs to move, to propel both her and Jack towards the ship. “Put this around him,” the crewman instructed. Elsa did her best to slip Jack’s arms and head through the loop and by the man’s signal, the people on deck started to pull the rope. Another rope from deck descended. The crewman helped her pull herself through the loop and they hoisted her up in the same manner.</p><p>The cold from the sea was one thing; being dried by the chilly evening wind was another. Once she was safely onboard, Elsa curled in on herself, rocking back and forth as she shivered uncontrollably. The heavy linen of her nightdress was soaking wet and clinging to her skin. Even her breath was cold; it did nothing to warm her purple fingers. Elsa was quickly swathed in blankets, including the cloak she was wearing earlier, and she was only vaguely aware that Mattias was kneeling in front of her, for her eyes had locked on to Jack’s unconscious form.</p><p>Jack’s face was whiter than his hair, his lips parted and drained of its usual reddish tint. He was lying on a nest of towels, some of which are draped over him to warm him up. “Come on, lad,” Bunnymund grunted, pressing on Jack’s chest a couple of times before leaning in. He was resuscitating him, Elsa realized. That would mean… no, <em>he couldn’t be…</em></p><p>“Come, Your Grace,” Mattias was saying, “We have to get you below—”</p><p>“N-n-n-n-n,” was all she could manage to reply. She was not going to leave the deck, even if it meant that she would freeze over—not while she was unsure whether Jack was still alive or not.</p><p>She pushed aside Mattias’ arms and did her best to crawl over to where Jack laid still, trembling hands reaching to squeeze his own between them while Bunnymund continued his attempts to revive him. Everything was just <em>cold: </em>his palm, his fingers, his wrist. She had no way of telling whether he was alive or… or…</p><p>Elsa could not bear to finish that thought. Tears fell from her eyes and onto the back of Jack’s hand. Still incapable of words, the only noises she could make were the awful, ragged and forceful exhales of breath as she sobbed.</p><p>She felt a pair of heavy hands on her shoulders—not to pull her back, but to <em>comfort her. </em>Elsa wanted to scream. She lost count of how many times she prayed tonight, but if the moon had heard her before, then it would certainly hear her now as she internally screamed at it, demanding it to bring him back.</p><p>“Come on, Jack,” Bunnymund said, more aggressively this time, the panic in his voice rising as he doubled his efforts. <em>“Come on!”</em></p><p>The moon seemed to be in the mood for miracles; Jack stirred, and Elsa let go of his hand in surprise as he coughed up a mouthful of water. Bunnymund was quick to help him sit up as he retched the rest of the seawater he had swallowed, running soothing motions down his back while the crew that stood by wrapped him in thick towels. A new wave of tears cascaded down her cheeks, the numbness in her body momentarily overtaken by sweet, sweet joy. <em>Jack was alive. </em></p><p>“You must go now, princess,” Bunnymund said. “We’ll have the maids run a hot bath for you both, but it will take some time to heat up the water. Change clothes, then proceed to the captain’s cabin.”</p><p>Mattias, taking his cue from Bunnymund, proceeded to bark orders on getting a fire going in the captain’s fireplace. Afterwards, he carried her down to her cabin, followed by two maids. Once Mattias was gone, she let the two dry her thoroughly and help her slip into a new nightdress. Elsa ordered them to leave her after all was done, though one of them did come back to give her a thicker blanket, which she accepted gratefully. Though she was dry now, her body was still shaking from the residual tremors every time she recalled the iciness of the sea. Her hair was stiff and still damp, and all her attempts to comb through it were futile. She decided to leave it be, instead wrapping herself in the thick blanket given to her before she made her way to the captain’s cabin.</p><p>Jack was already there when she arrived, sitting on the floor with his knees up and his arms resting on top of them. The cabin was empty save for the two of them, plus the roaring fire in the grate. Elsa quietly approached him, sinking down to the floor a few feet away from him. She could not help but sigh in relief as warmth flooded through her, eagerly bringing her icy fingertips near the flames to soak up the heat. They sat together in awkward silence, with Elsa casting a glance at him every once in a while to check if he was still there. Jack was still as a statue, his eyes glassy and faraway. His face was still sickly pale, though the lovely hue of his lips was slowly coming back. He was dressed in only shirtsleeves and trousers; Elsa recognized it as his worn pair which he wore when they went to Santoff Claussen. The blanket that was draped over him was lopsided, teetering haphazardly over the tip of his shoulders, but he made no move to adjust it.</p><p>Elsa’s brow furrowed in worry, try as she might to ignore it. The longer they stayed together in the room, the more she wondered why she was trying to ignore it in the first place. If tonight’s events had proven anything, it was that despite all else, she still cared for him, and he for her. He saved her again tonight, and she saved him. <em>Does that absolve him of his wrong? </em>she thought. She exhaled slowly. She would think about that later when she was alone.</p><p>When the blanket finally slid off one of his shoulders, Elsa knelt before him and fixed it herself.</p><p>Jack blinked and watched her in childish wonder  as she laid the blanket on his shoulders properly, as if he were surprised that she was doing this for him. Elsa sat back on her haunches, idly noting, “Your fingers are turning blue.”</p><p>Having warmed her hands in the past few minutes, gooseflesh rose on her arms at how cold Jack’s fingers were. She scooted closer to him and cupped both of his hands in hers, exhaling on them and rubbing her hands against his before turning it over in front of the fire. Still, Jack said nothing—not even as she lazily traced soothing circles on the back of his hand with her thumbs as she held them close to the fire, which was a result of the itching need to thread her fingers through his. She held his hands close to her lips again to warm them, but this time, she let his hands rest on top of hers.</p><p>Jack muttered something. Elsa was too busy looking at his hands to catch what he said. “I’m sorry?”</p><p>She looked up to see him crying silently, the flames reflected in his anguished blue eyes.</p><p>“I remember now.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: Finals are almost over, I think I passed most of my subjects... all is well (I hope). Also I apologize for the sloppy writing and issues with grammar and such... I finished this in a whim because I didn't want to leave you guys hanging for too long. Thank you once again for waiting and I hope you enjoyed this one :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: Here it is! I'm so sorry it took me this long to update... I took a break from writing after finals. I was really disappointed in the results and I felt down and unmotivated for quite a while. I feel (only slightly) better now though. I really am sorry and I hope you all understand.</p><p>Without further ado, here's the new chapter :) It's a long and hefty read for me but I hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I remember now.”</p><p>
  <em>~~~</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Jack…”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The ice cracked beneath her feet, the sound like a distant boom of thunder.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“… I’m scared...”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He took a step forward—another mistake. More cracks appeared on the ice from where his foot was planted.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I know—I—”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He could see her ankles shaking from desperately trying to keep still, each tremor causing the web of cracks to grow on the ice that she was standing on, the thin lines like greedy fingers clawing at its untouched surroundings.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>With their father gone and their mother bedridden, Jack had to take on multiple jobs in the village just to feed them. He worked long hours, often missing playtime with his sister as a result. Today was the one good day where he did not have to work, and he had taken her ice-skating, as he had promised. But it was now near the end of winter, the days having slipped past his notice. He was so stupid.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You’re not going to fall in,” he tried to say calmly, gracing her with a confident smile. “We—we’re going to have fun, instead.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No, we’re not!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Would I trick you?” he crooned.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yes! You always play tricks!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Her words stung, her shrill voice on the verge of tears. She trusted him and now they were literally standing on the thin line between life and death. It may be the end of winter, but anyone could still catch their deaths in this unrelenting cold. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“N-not this time,” he vowed. “I promise.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She met his eyes then, wide brown orbs full of fear. She seemed to let go of the breath she had been holding, and slowly, a timid bravery seeped into her features. It fueled his drive even more.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“We’re going to play hopscotch!” he declared. “Like we play every day.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He was going to keep his promise. He did not want her to know that he was more terrified than she, so he made her laugh to drown the sound of cracking ice as he stepped off to the side, where the ice was thicker. But his sister was smart, and he had a feeling that she followed along more for his sake than hers.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>When the ice beneath him felt more stable, he felt a gigantic weight lift from his chest, replaced by a fierce determination and overwhelming hope. If he can make it, so can she.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He will keep his promise.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“One.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>They counted together. Jack had removed his skates, and after the first step he knew that his sister would have difficulty walking as she was still wearing hers. He gripped his staff at the ready. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Two.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She kept looking down. The forced bravery in the set of her jaw disappeared immediately. She knew that she wasn’t going to make it; the two steps she took were pitifully small.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He grabbed her just before she could say ‘three’. Thank goodness she was slim enough to fit through the hook of his staff.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The last thing he saw was her huge, bright smile, her tiny body sprawled safely on the other side of the lake. He had saved her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He had kept his promise.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The ice cracked beneath his weight, and the water below drowned the scream that erupted from his sister’s throat.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>~~~</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He woke to the brightness of the sun outside that was streaming through his window. His entire body felt cold and weak, despite the heavy layers of blankets that were draped over him. His eyelids peeled back with difficulty, and the first thing that went through his head was that he was thirsty.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>As if on cue, a stout man helped him sit up and brought a glass to his dry, cracked lips. He downed its contents in three, large gulps. “You were out for days,” the man said. To him, the man did not look like a healer or a doctor—he looked more like a baby that turned into a man that it almost made him chuckle. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Who are you?” he asked hoarsely. “Where am I?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You are in the infirmary. You fell through the lake whilst skating,” the man replied gravely. He blinked, scratching his head. He had no idea what the man was talking about, or what his grievous tone entailed. Horror slowly took over him as he wracked his brain for such an event and found it hard to remember.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It dawned on him that did not even know his own name. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Thank goodness we arrived in time. Sanderson and I were out hunting, you see. We heard you… I tried to come back for her, but it was too late,” the man added. “She’s gone.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His head spun. “Who—”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Your mother is here as well. Her condition has worsened, what with her illness and grief—”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Wait—”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“—I’ve done everything that I can to help ease her pain—”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“STOP!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The man paused, taken aback by his sudden outburst. He was shaking on the bed, his back pressed against the headboard. His head felt light, and his own rapid panting echoed hollowly in his ears. What was this man talking about? Who’s gone? His mother? What was happening?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Is there something wrong, Jack Frost?” asked the man. It took him a moment to realize that he was addressing him. That was his name: Jack Frost. He had hoped that if he knew his own name at least, it would be the spark of recognition he needed to fuel the return of his other memories.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There was nothing.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I-I don’t know who I am.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The man raised an eyebrow. “You really do not remember?” Jack shook his head, trying to swallow the panic that rose in the back of his throat.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The man seemed to contemplate something, his fingers tapping his chin as he thought. Then, he sighed. “Forgive me, my boy. For what I have done. I tried.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Tried what?” Jack demanded, confused. “Who are you?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I shall do what I can, to make up for what I failed to do. We will see each other again, Jackson Overland Frost. Then, I shall tell you everything.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The man left without another word. Jack sat on his bed for hours trying to piece together what information he could glean from his quick interaction with the baby-faced man. Then he recalled him saying that his mother was here—maybe she could help. When he was cleared to leave, he asked the attending healer who the man was, and where he could find his mother. The healer, a rather old woman, just scoffed at his question and directed him to a separate ward. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>His mother lay on a bed similar to his, her eyes closed shut and her chest moving only slightly as she fought to breathe. There were tear tracks down the side of her face, Jack noticed. The more he studied her features, past the sickly pallor and protruding bones underneath, the more he felt the guilt eat him up from the inside. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He did not know this woman.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But she knew him. And he was going to wait for her to wake up.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He stayed by her side as the weeks crawled by and her condition worsened. She was never awake when he came to, and oftentimes she would murmur unintelligible things in her sleep. The healers said she would not last very long in this state. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>One afternoon, he was sitting next to her bed with her hand in his. She had lost so much weight; her cheeks were incredibly sunken, her fingers like the legs of a spindly spider and the skin covering it perpetually cold. Jack kept muttering an apology to her as if it were a prayer. “I’m sorry I don’t remember you.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Jack…”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His head snapped up. His mother’s eyes, a dull, muddy and unfamiliar shade of brown, opened slightly to look at him. He immediately leaned forward, trying to catch more of the words that she was trying to say. “The house… lake… your sister…” she breathed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I have a sister?” he asked. Her eyes were starting to close again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No! Wait, please!” he begged. “I need you!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>With her limp hand still in his, he was able to tell that her pulse was rapidly growing fainter until all he felt was nothing.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His mother’s death was a blackhole through which he spiraled uncontrollably through. He stood from his chair and backed away, knocking over the hooked staff that the baby-faced man had left behind for him. Jack’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the twisted wood of the shaft hard, trying to steady his breathing as the world around him reeled. She was his last chance, his last hope, to make sense of who he was. And now she was gone.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He ran from the infirmary, bumping into people in the village as he did. He did not know its name, but in the back of his mind, it felt familiar. None of the people seemed to take notice of his wildly confused and darting glances, and he did not want to be a bother to them any further so he just kept running. What had she said? She mentioned a house and a lake.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And his sister. He had a sister.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His feet brought him away from the village and into the woods. It was nearing dusk by the time he reached the only house there, set apart from the rest of the village; it was dark, and it seemed to be deserted. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jack opened the door to the house. It wasn’t much, he thought. It protected them from the rain and snow, and that was all that mattered. They didn’t have a table, just a worn rug in the center of the floor. There were two other rooms aside from the open area that was the kitchen. He checked each of them, and found them to be empty. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>One of the rooms had a window that overlooked the lake a few feet away. He left the quiet house and walked slowly to the lake, which was still partially frozen. There were two distinct holes on the surface however, and it perplexed him because he knew that there should have been only one.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The lake. The cold water. His sister. The cracks. His promise.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No,” he whispered. He broke into a run, stumbling a little and falling to his knees by the lakeshore. Flashes were coming back to him so quickly that it felt like he was drowning in the flood—they’d been ice-skating, and he had fallen through the ice. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The memory was foggy, but he had heard a second splash, made by someone going below after him. He had felt her small hand grabbing at his sleeve, trying to pull him up and out. He remembered trying to swim for her, but his own limbs felt heavy and stiff like lead rods, his lungs burning after his first involuntary gasp for air just as he heard a third splash from somewhere nearby. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Then the voice of the man from the infirmary rang in his head. ‘I tried’, he had said. ‘She’s gone.’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He felt her hand disappear from his sleeve as he was pulled out of the lake. He remembered feeling angry and desperately trying to say, ‘No! Save her!’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em>His brain worked hard to remember more, but the harder he thought about it the further out of reach his memories became—gone as quickly as it arrived, leaving him breathless and more confused than ever.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>All he knew was that his sister was dead, as was his mother, and now, he was alone.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>So he ran again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> ~~~</em>
</p><p>“I ended up in Santoff Claussen, where I stayed for months before St. North found me and brought me to Burgess,” said Jack. Elsa had been very patient and attentive, blue eyes wide as his story came to a close. When he fell into the ice cold pit of the sea, it wasn’t just the water and the pain that washed over him—all of a sudden he was in that lake again, trying with all his might to break through the ice, blindly kicking up for air with his sister clinging to his arm.</p><p>He wanted the Tsar to save <em>her, </em>not him. He wanted <em>her </em>to live—a child, no older than ten years old then. Jack’s hands balled into fists on his forearms in anger.</p><p>“I thought those memories had been lost forever, but now I know—it was the Tsar who saved me. He pulled me out first, then came back for my sister. But it was too late. <em>He </em>was too late.”</p><p>His words tasted awfully bitter and his shoulders shook as he made an effort not to sob in anguish, hugging his knees tightly to his chest and grabbing fistfuls of his hair instead.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Elsa muttered, her bowed.</p><p>“He should have saved her first,” he snapped. “All this time, they told me that the Tsar saw something in me—that there was a reason why he <em>chose </em>me.” Jack scoffed, which quickly turned into a fit of maniacal, deranged, laughter. “But there is nothing <em>special </em>about me. I’m just a boy he felt sorry for, a boy he pitied!”</p><p>Elsa tried to reach for his shoulder. “Jack, that’s not true—”</p><p>“All along I was just another obligation to him! Another debt to pay! Why, helping me would have eased his guilt about letting a <em>child </em>die, would it not?”</p><p>Elsa sat back on her haunches in shock, mouth slightly agape and eyes blown wide. He wrung his hands angrily in the air. “I waited so long to find out who I was, to make sense of who I was supposed to be and it was all for nothing! Everyone thought—no, <em>expected</em>—me to be some great leader chosen by the Tsar himself when the truth is <em>I am no one!”</em></p><p>He grunted in surprise when Elsa flung herself into his arms, effectively putting an end to his wild rant. As her arms wrapped him tightly in a reassuring embrace, the rush of anger that boiled his blood quickly simmered down. “Who you were meant to be was never up to the Tsar,” she stated firmly. “It had always been up to <em>you</em>. You are who you choose to become, and you chose to be a brilliant, compassionate, hard-working and loving person. You loved your sister so much that you put her life above yours that day. You loved your mother and stayed by her side to the end, even if you did not remember her at all. You were a child with a great responsibility, and though it took you a while to accept it, you grew past that and did everything you can to make up for it. That takes a different kind of strength, and <em>you</em> did that—that is what makes you special, whether or not the Tsar realized it when he chose you to be his successor.”</p><p>Jack did not even realize that he had started to cry again by the time she finished her piece. Elsa let him though, with his head buried into the side of her neck. They stayed like that for a few moments, the air around them silent except for his pained sobs. Elsa ran soothing up and down strokes on his back with her hand in time with his ragged breathing until he eventually calmed down and the tears ebbed. He pulled away to wipe the snot and the tears from his face with the edge of the blanket she had draped over his shoulders earlier, discreetly keeping his head low as he did. She kept a hand on his arm though, still keeping at her soothing ministrations.</p><p>They were sitting so close to one another that Elsa was partially splayed across his lap. Her eyes were uncharacteristically warm for their icy blue hue, her soft gaze melting him with its tenderness. He leaned his forehead against hers, inhaling her faint lavender scent, which was mixed with a hint of sea spray. “I thought I lost you today,” he whispered, gently cupping her cheek past her tangled locks. Elsa leaned into his hand like a cat, covering it with her warmer one. “I almost lost <em>you,” </em>she whispered back.</p><p>His hand made its way towards the back of her neck ever so deftly, brushing her hair away and off her shoulder, revealing the smooth expanse of porcelain skin where her nightdress left it exposed. Elsa closed her eyes as he slowly angled her head upward, the light from the fireplace accentuating the dip of her darkly flushed lips. Heat blossomed from within his core, one that had nothing to do with the flames and everything to do with her being this close, with her lips being a hair’s breadth away from his. It was a blazing fire that he would eagerly welcome, that would bring him back to life with a single spark. And it was all because of <em>her.</em></p><p>Elsa pulled back as he edged closer, just as he tried to close the remaining gap between them. “Why did you have to make things so <em>difficult?” </em>she muttered, hanging her head to avoid his eyes.</p><p>He felt the flame sputter and die in his chest. Jack leaned backward, taken aback by her words. “What?”</p><p>But Elsa was already standing, her blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders. “You should keep to the fire for the night,” she said monotonously, focused on straightening her nightdress. “I shall be warm enough in my cabin while I wait for the hot water. Good night, Jack.”</p><p>She walked briskly to the door. “Elsa?” he called, standing up as well, his head spinning as he did. Jack had no idea what he was supposed to say, or why he spoke out in the first place. All he knew was that he desperately wanted her to stay.</p><p>Elsa paused at the door and sighed heavily. When she spoke, she did not look at him directly, instead speaking over her shoulder with a strained, tormented voice. “What I said on the deck before… I just… despite my best efforts, I just <em>cannot</em> hate you, Jack.”</p><p>Her voice was barely above a whisper, but nonetheless it sent him to shock once more. “But I cannot trust you again—not yet, not while I am still confused myself.”</p><p>Jack dropped his gaze to the floor as he shuffled his feet. “Forgive me, for causing you so much pain,” he said, just as quietly, his tone soft and sincere. She turned to leave.</p><p>“I should have you know,” he quickly added, “that I will wait.”</p><p>Elsa looked at him then, wide blue eyes searching his own for any indication of dishonesty. He swallowed the lump in his throat, his fingers twitching to itch the back of his head in awkward discomfort. But he held them firmly by his sides, and he stood a little straighter as the words started to form on his tongue.</p><p>“There is <em>only you</em> for me, and I will wait for you, for however long it will take for you to forgive me and to trust me again. I will do everything that I can to prove myself once more to you, and if in the end your sentiments remain unchanged, I would understand, and let you be.”</p><p>Elsa seemed to consider his declaration. He hoped that she felt the sincerity and resolve in his words. After a few still moments, and though he did not expect a grand reaction from her, she only nodded her head in acknowledgement before disappearing into the gloom beyond the cabin.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The rest of the journey went by without a hitch. Jack made sure that the rebels were safely secured in the brig, sometimes keeping watch with the other Arendellian guards when he couldn’t sleep at night. Matthias told him that they would be interrogated properly when they got to Arendelle. They were still perplexed as to how they managed to sneak on board, and as an added measure, Matthias and his men kept a close eye on the crew.</p><p>During the nights where Jack was on watch duty, the eye-patched man would fix him with a sneer, lips curled back in a wicked grin and eyes glinting maliciously. Their prisoners never spoke with one another, not even to complain about the soggy food, nor to respond to him or Matthias. It unsettled Jack to no end; they were too <em>comfortable</em> being locked up, and he desperately needed to know why.</p><p>With Bunnymund bedridden and perpetually attached to an empty bucket from the sea plague, Jack found himself by his lonesome most of the time. He would often talk to Matthias—if delivering and receiving reports could be counted as a conversation. He would have gladly passed the time with Elsa, but the crown princess spent most of her time in her cabin, leaving only to watch the sun rise and set. Jack could never quite catch her in the mornings, so at dusk he made sure to be situated on the quarterdeck by the helm. He knew that she preferred her own company, but that did not mean that he could not be with her from afar. He’d watch her emerge from below deck, swathed in her magenta cloak, pale hair braided down the middle of her back and aflame under the bright colors of sunset. Sometimes, he’d look away before she realized that he was watching—other times, he would tip his head in greeting, with a small smile on his face. Elsa would always return the gesture, but her smile would melt into a frown when she turned away and thought that he wouldn’t notice.</p><p>He understood her, of course. He knew that it was difficult for her to trust others, let alone trust herself with her own emotions. But he could not help but feel his face fall every time he saw her smile fade.</p><p>They were not <em>technically </em>avoiding each other; Elsa still ate meals with them in the captain’s cabin, and sometimes they would even exchange a few words with one another—but it was small talk, and the conversation often died pretty quickly. If the other people at the dining table took notice, they mentioned nothing.</p><p>At night, Jack did everything he could to tire himself out so that he would fall into a dreamless slumber; his newfound memories tended to haunt him as soon as his eyes shut closed, hence why he preferred to take the night watch over their prisoners. He wished that he could talk to Elsa about his dreams, but he did not want her to be burdened by them. After all, he promised that he would respect her space, not invade it with his own problems.</p><p>Instead, he wrote. He never had a reason to write before, but as he embodied all he remembered and his dreams in ink, he felt less alone. His bittersweet letters were addressed to no one in particular, but he thought perhaps that he might hand them over to Toothiana when they return to Burgess. He was caught in a paradox caused by his memories’ resurgence—though they troubled his sleep, every day since remembering them he felt more whole. Jack no longer felt like he had to keep looking back; he could now focus on the present without his past haunting him, without it preventing him from thinking about his future. Of course, he wouldn’t have thought of it this way had it not been for Elsa.</p><p>On their sixth day at sea, Jack stood before her door and rapped thrice on the cold wood. “Who is it?” she asked.</p><p>“It’s me.” There was a brief pause, then the door opened with a creak. Elsa wore a simple, lacy, long-sleeved blouse and a dull purple, frilly, layered skirt, with a thick black ribbon tied around her waist and another around her neck. Even in the dimness of her cabin, she looked as radiant as always.</p><p>He bowed his head in greeting. “I just wanted to tell you that Arendelle is within sight—well, <em>spyglass </em>sight, I should say. We’ll probably reach the docks by late afternoon.”</p><p>Her round blue eyes lit up in excitement, and he was thankful that he caught a glimpse of it before she cleared her throat and the mask she wore slid back into place. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll be up shortly.”</p><p>Jack nodded once in acknowledgement. They stood in silence for a few seconds, the air between them inexplicably charged—he was waiting for her to shut the door at his face, until he realized that Elsa must have been waiting for <em>him</em> to leave first. His hands felt twitchy; he wondered whether he should say something or not. <em>Fool, what would you say? </em>he snapped at himself, mentally slapping a palm to his forehead. “I should prepare…” Elsa said, her words hanging awkwardly in the air.</p><p>“Of course, of course. Forgive me,” he replied. “I’ll leave you then.” He bowed his head once more and quickly turned on his heel, heat flooding his face with embarrassment. <em>Stupid.</em></p><p>True to her word, Elsa did join them on the port side of the deck not ten minutes later. To his surprise, she stood next to him, placing her hands on the taffrail such that her pinky brushed his. Arendelle was just beyond the snow-covered mountain’s flank ahead of them. He started to see more of the palace as the ship eased into the fjord, its striking sand-colored stone in stark contrast with the snowy mountainside and its steep emerald green roofs reaching up to the sky with its pointed spires. The palace was embellished with holiday decorations that sparkled like a thousand crystals under the afternoon sun. He could see tiny houses scattered all over the mountainside, interspersed with towering pine trees. “You never mentioned that Arendelle would be this beautiful,” he said, taking in the picturesque view.</p><p>Elsa chuckled. “I <em>had </em>intended for it to be a surprise.” Her tone was light, almost joking—if it weren’t for the sour note it held when she emphasized the use of past tense, a small pinprick directly jabbing at his heart. He casted a quick glance at her, apology at the ready, but she kept her own gaze forward; other than the apparent relief that she was finally home, he could sense that she would not hear of it.</p><p>As the docks grew ever closer, he could distinguish the dark silhouette of King Agnarr in his military garb, with his wife on one side and a bouncing green blob which he assumed must be Anna on the other. Beside him, Elsa cracked a beaming smile. Jack grinned inwardly; if she’d been as expressive as her sister, he was sure that she would be bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement, too.</p><p>He was thankful that Elsa was in such an elated mood. She didn’t start when he hooked her hand on his elbow as the ship’s anchor dropped. She even accepted his proffered hand without a moment’s pause as he guided her safely down the gangway. His skin felt hot where their hands were linked, the tingling sensation reaching deep into the pit of his stomach. He was trying very hard not to flatter himself at being this close to Elsa without her walls in between them, but he could not help himself from basking in her contagious joy.</p><p>Anna flew into Elsa’s arms the second she stepped foot off the gangplank. She made a sound between a grunt and a chuckle upon impact, squeezing her sister back in a tight embrace. “I missed you too, Anna.”</p><p>“I thought you wouldn’t be arriving till next week!”</p><p>Elsa shrugged and smiled sheepishly as Anna pulled away, tucking the loose strands of her strawberry blonde hair behind her ear. In a lot of ways, the two sisters looked alike: same blue eyes, same button noses, down to the freckles that peppered their cheekbones. “I figured that a nice holiday surprise wouldn’t hurt anyone.”</p><p>“A pleasant surprise, indeed,” her mother replied, stepping in for her turn to hug Elsa. “Welcome home, dear.”</p><p>Jack hung back as Bunnymund, assisted by an Arendellian guard, joined on the dock. The poor man still looked green, though he did look like he was about to fall on his knees and start kissing the surface of the wood. Jack opened his mouth, but Bunnymund beat him to it. “One joke and I will purge the contents of my stomach onto you.”</p><p>“Relax, old man,” he chuckled. “I simply wanted to offer my assistance, wobbly legs and all.” Bunnymund huffed in annoyance, pinching the bridge of his nose.</p><p>King Agnarr, after releasing Elsa from a warm embrace, turned to him. “Welcome to Arendelle, my lords. I take it that the wind and sea were kind to your travels?”</p><p>“Indeed they were, Your Highness,” Jack bowed. “But the journey was not without <em>other</em> complications.”</p><p>As if on cue, Mattias marched down to the dock on the other side, their prisoners in chains behind him and escorted on either side by Arendellian soldiers. King Agnarr’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll see you settled first, then we’ll discuss,” he said. Jack nodded his assent.</p><p>He and Bunnymund followed the King’s lead away from the docks, where a couple of carriages were waiting for them. Anna was latched onto Elsa’s arm with their mother in tow, who was grinning lovingly at her daughters. Elsa’s cheeks were flushed, blue eyes alive and bright with happiness. The royal family had their own coach, separate from theirs. Turns out, Bunnymund <em>did</em> need a little help getting in their coach.</p><p>After making sure that the older man could find his seat, Jack raced quickly to the first carriage, where Elsa was just about to lift her skirts. “Your Grace,” he said with a polite smile, extending a hand while holding the door open with the other. The brightness in Elsa’s eyes did not diminish when she looked at him, and for that, he was thankful; it had been a while since he’d last seen her with that look aimed his way.</p><p>She flashed him with one of her endearingly shy smiles and took his hand as he helped her climb into the carriage. He did not miss Anna’s barely contained squealing, or the subtle blush that deepened in Elsa’s pale cheeks. Afterwards, he closed the door with a click, jogging smugly back to their own coach as the snap of the reins resounded through the air followed by the sound of hooves clopping on the cobblestones.</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p><em>“So,”</em> Anna started. They were in their shared bedroom now, the starry night sky still visible through the light coat of frost on their huge triangular window. Her mother did have a separate room prepared for her return, but her old bed stayed in Anna’s bedroom, where the sisters now sat across from each other. Anna was going through her fifth chocolate bar from the mountainous pile of sweets she had brought back from Burgess, tossing the discarded wrappings over the edge of the bed.</p><p>Elsa quirked a brow. “So?”</p><p>“You <em>know,”</em> Anna teased, the corners of her chocolate-stained lips upturning in a knowing smirk. Elsa laughed, playfully swatting at her. “As a matter if fact, I do not.”</p><p>Her sister groaned in mock exasperation, falling flat on her stomach across the bed then turning dramatically on her back with her arms splayed outward. “Aren’t you going to tell me about your other <em>swoon-worthy</em> moments with Lord Frost?”</p><p>Elsa froze, making a disgruntled noise in the back of her throat. <em>Of course </em>Anna would love to hear about all that—how on earth had she forgotten that she had written letters to the biggest romantic in Arendelle about her developing friendship and courtship with her betrothed?</p><p>Anna sat up, tugging at the hem of her her nightdress impatiently. “Come now, Elsa—out with it already!”</p><p>Elsa tugged at the end of her braid. “You <em>have </em>been reading my letters, haven’t you?” Even she thought her bluff was weak. “That’s all, really.”</p><p>“Oh, but I want more details!” Anna whined, wringing her hands for effect. “Surely you have more stories to tell—oh, don’t look at me like that, Elsa—”</p><p>“But there really isn’t!”</p><p>“Why?” When Elsa paused for a moment too long, Anna’s expression changed, her brows furrowing in suspicion. Elsa really had to hand it to Anna for being incredibly perceptive when it comes to her. Wiping away the remains of chocolate on her lips, Anna edged closer, patiently waiting for her reply. It made Elsa fiddle with her hands, which was another tell that made Anna’s face wrinkle further. “It’s a long story,” she began, “but simply put, we aren’t particularly <em>that</em> fond of each other’s company right now.”</p><p>Anna frowned, and Elsa could see the cogs in her brain turning as her face contorted in anger. “What happened? He hurt you, didn’t he? I knew he would be up to no good! You always mentioned that he was a mischievous, rebellious little tw—”</p><p>“Anna!” Elsa had to place a restraining hand on her sister’s arm so that she wouldn’t stomp around in their room cursing Jack’s name with every known profanity under the moon. “Well, then what happened? What did he do?” she demanded.</p><p>“He <em>did</em> hurt me… but he also <em>didn’t,”</em> Elsa answered slowly, swallowing uncomfortably through the lump that was suddenly lodged in the back of her throat. She sighed; why was she getting choked up on her words? Opening up to Anna about this should have been a lot easier—after all, she had practically been rehearsing her lines, having had this constant, unending debate with herself the whole time she was at sea. “You and I both know that it’s… <em>difficult </em>for me to be open, vulnerable. Jack was a pain at first, but then he started to make it feel easier. That’s why I considered us to be friends.”</p><p>Elsa stood from the bed, walking over to their bedroom window and eyeing the glow of the moon reflected on the crystal decorations of the palace as she sat on the cushions of their window bench. “When father arranged our betrothal, I’d convinced myself that it was just going to be that: a union. I didn’t think that I would find it in my heart to care for him, to bare my deepest fears and my past to him as I did.”</p><p>“Isn’t that a good thing?” Anna enquired. “Personally, I feel glad that you found comfort in Jack. It must have been harder for you since you’ve been away from home.”</p><p><em>Was</em> it a good thing? He saw the fears that kept her locked in a fortress for years, and she was stupid enough to believe that he could pull her out, set her free. She had to keep reminding herself that he <em>did,</em> if only for a little while. But breaking her trust not only shoved her back into her prison—it also made new walls of its own to keep her in. “I don’t understand what the problem is, Elsa.”</p><p>Elsa shrugged, pulling her knees close to her chest and dropping her head on them. “Neither do I. I just… I don’t know how to go back to the way things were—when we were just people arranged to be married, before I realized that there was something <em>more </em>between us.”</p><p>Anna tilted her head to the side, concern in her eyes. “Elsa, you are engaged to him. Why would you deny falling in love with him?” She approached her and placed her hand on her shoulder. “I read your letters constantly, thinking about what it must have felt like—to fall for and deeply care for another person. And I thought, it must be incredible to have those feelings reciprocated. You know that I believe in the magic of true love and love at first sight and whatnot, but what you wrote to me seemed just as special. In fact, it’s a different kind of <em>magic, </em>to slowly fall and realize that you were in love. And you’re lucky that you have someone to share <em>that </em>with.”</p><p>The turbulent thoughts that took up her entire being throughout the rest of her journey back home nagged at her once again; she wanted to let them all out, to relieve her mind of them. But as she lifted her head to meet Anna’s eyes, she realized that no one else would ever understand, not when they did not have all the pieces. And though she was inclined to tell her sister everything, Jack’s affair was not her secret to tell.</p><p>
  <em>I’m terrified that I’ll get hurt again. </em>
</p><p>These feelings she had for Jack, she had no control over them. They had crept up on her, as smoothly and as silently as the first snowfall. But they had also led her to pain, more than she could have ever anticipated. Jack had declared that he would wait for her, just beyond the forbidding walls that towered over her and her heart. He made his move, and as she understood it, it was time for her to make hers.</p><p>
  <em>Conceal it, don’t feel it. Don’t let it show.</em>
</p><p>Elsa took a steadying breath. “I don’t know what to do,” was all she said.</p><p>“I think you do,” Anna countered, her mouth curling up slightly in a comforting smile. She gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “You just have to let go of whatever’s keeping you from doing it.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: At last... I have finished writing this :&lt; online classes are getting real hard lately... I don't even remember the last time I had proper sleep. Once again, I thank you all for your patience and I'm sorry in advance for any spelling/grammar issues. I'm pooped but I hope you enjoyed this one!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Chapter 23</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As stated in Chapter 26, I've rewritten some parts in Chapters 23-25. All major edits are in BOLD.</p><p>Main rewrite for this one: Jack would have absolutely NEVER left his weapon in the first place right after North said kEeP ViGiLanT and I hated that this was what I went with. Also, some inconsistencies with Jack referring to Anna as 'the princess' or using her given name.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Even after a long-winded tour of the palace—courtesy of one stern-looking butler—Jack still found himself lost in the hallways<strong> most of the time</strong>. To be perfectly honest, the only path he had memorized was the one from the dining hall back to his room, which was around the corner from Elsa’s and adjacent to Bunnymund’s—who, on the other hand, seemed to have no trouble navigating the labyrinth that was the Arendellian palace. “Reminds me of the old Warren,” he said simply, and the smirk that pulled at the corner of his lips spoke of longing for his old home.</p><p>It was the second day since their arrival, and Jack had already lost his way thrice by wandering into a massive gallery room featuring a collection of enormous paintings, an empty and seemingly unused council chamber with its menacing highbacked seats, and a spacious library, where shelves upon shelves of books stood before a portrait of King Agnarr’s coronation. <strong>Well, he supposed that he <em>had</em> wanted</strong> to fill in the<strong> amount of vacant</strong> hours <strong>he now had with any kind of activity </strong>since he decided to give Elsa <strong>some space</strong> to catch up with her family. After <strong>settling</strong> on a <strong>thick, heavy</strong> book to peruse, he slipped out of the library and attempted to make his way back to his chambers—which he begrudgingly did by retracing his steps back to the dining hall and starting from there. It was either that or giving in to his inner child and screaming <strong>for help</strong> until an annoyed Bunnymund came to fetch him in the halls.</p><p>As he reached the top of the stairs, a hand darted out to grab his forearm and swung him around the corner, his back slamming lightly against the wall, <strong>the impact causing the hanging portraits to tremble</strong>. The book he borrowed from the library fell with a heavy thud on the carpeted floor, dangerously close to his foot. His eyes narrowed at the assailant—Jack relaxed a little when he realized that it was <strong>Princess Anna</strong> who stood before him, meeting his now vaguely annoyed grimace with her own very angry scowl. “Your Highness,” he greeted, unable to hide the twinge of irritance in his voice, “What can I do for you?”</p><p>“Let’s skip the niceties, shall we?” <strong>the princess</strong> replied with a saccharine smile, before jabbing a finger at his chest. “I may not know much about what happened between you and Elsa, but I <em>do </em>know that you’ve hurt her in some way. If you think you can get away with it, then, <em>my lord,</em> you are gravely mistaken.”</p><p>Jack quirked an eyebrow. He was briefly reminded of the time Elsa had threatened him on the day they first met. <em>Sisters, </em>he thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes in amusement. “Believe me, princess, I have no intention of ‘getting away with it’,” he said calmly, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m trying to make things right.”</p><p>Princess Anna shifted back, straightening her posture with her nosed tipped up and eyes narrowed. “Good,” she replied curtly. “She has been through so much and I don’t want <em>you</em> adding any more to that.”</p><p>“She’s not fragile, you know,” he countered. His voice dropped, as did his hands, which were now limply hanging from his sides. “And I meant no disrespect. I understand where your protectiveness is coming from. But Elsa is one of the strongest, most determined people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. It is this internal war she always has with herself that worries me. One can only take on so much before they break from within.”</p><p>At this, the princess sighed. “I know. It worries me, too.” <strong>Jack lowered his gaze to the geometric motif on the edges of the carpet; not quite like the one native to Burgess, but likewise all angles and sharp lines.</strong> He then noticed that Princess Anna kept nervously shifting from one foot to another, twiddling with her thumbs and pursing her lips as if to keep herself from saying anything more. Just as Jack was about to ask, she spewed out the words like a breath she had been holding for far too long. “She likes you, alright? If you could read the letters that she sent me, they’re all mostly about you and it’s painfully clear to me that you matter dearly to her. But she’s… somehow <em>fighting </em>it. And I have no idea why.”</p><p><em>Because I hurt her, </em>Jack wanted to say, shame weighing his head down further. <em>Because I broke her trust.</em></p><p>“So, what are you going to do about it?”</p><p>His head snapped up. “I beg your pardon?”</p><p>Her expression hardened, crossing her arms expectantly and drawling every syllable of her earlier question. “I said, what are you going to do about it?”</p><p>Jack carefully studied her expression, stunned by the hope he saw in her eyes as she waited for an answer. He swallowed loudly, sweating slightly at the sudden pressure from the weight of her gaze. “I <em>did </em>tell her that I would wait,” he murmured. <strong>He thought he sounded ridiculous, saying all this out loud.</strong> “Wait for her to forgive me, or reject me, whichever she chose. I told her that I would do everything in my power to prove myself worthy of her trust again, if she’ll still have me.”</p><p>Princess Anna bounced impatiently on the balls of her feet, lips pursed once more, though a redness had spread from the apples of her cheeks to the tips of her ears, accentuating the freckles across her cheekbones and nose. “I am going to pretend that <em>that </em>was <em>not </em>one of the most romantic things I have ever heard in my entire life,” she huffed in mild annoyance.</p><p>“You flatter me, princess,” he replied with a smile. “But I <em>am </em>open to suggestions, if you feel that my method is lacking or ineffective.”</p><p>“That will do fine, I think. It will take Elsa a little bit more time to open up again, but my guess is that she’s at the very least comforted to know that you were willing to work this out with her,” the princess said brightly. She bent down to pick his book up from the floor and handed it to him before turning to leave. “Oh, and I apologize for ambushing you like this. Like any good sister would do, I needed you to understand exactly what I would do to you should you ever hurt Elsa again. But seeing as we both have her best interests at heart… I’ll be looking forward to working with you, <em>Jack Frost</em>.”</p><p>
  <strong>“Alright, princess—”</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“Just ‘Anna’ now, if you please.”</strong>
</p><p><strong>“Very well then, <em>Anna,”</em></strong> he said, returning the princess’ contagious smile, “While I am touched by your intentions—though, I must stress that I have no desire to hurt Elsa a second time—why would you want to help me?”</p><p><em>Anna</em> looked at him as if he had just asked her something blatantly obvious. “Because you make her <em>happy,” </em>she answered simply, “and because if there is anything that I’ve learned from being isolated from the world, it is that having that one thing—it could be love, family, friendship—is what keeps us from feeling truly alone. Elsa has been alone for almost her entire life, and if you could be that one thing that will help her break free from all of that, then why <em>wouldn’t </em>I want to help you?”</p><p>Anna skipped away merrily, hands loosely locked behind her back and twin strawberry blonde braids swinging from side to side. Surprisingly dumbfounded, Jack returned to his room, opening the book on his lap though his mind saw not the ink on the page, but the words that Anna had just said.</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>Anna would later prove to be quite a match to his more mischievous side, just as Elsa’s quick wits were to his own. The sneaky little devil often put him and her own sister in one room, one conversation, or one activity—<strong>a little overdone, in Jack’s opinion, but he did not complain.</strong> Once, Anna had enlisted the help of a servant—a stable boy, by the amount of hay on his clothes—to engage both him and Elsa in a fierce snowball fight on the grounds. Jack had to admit that whatever Anna’s plan was, it was working far more effectively than his. He’d finally heard the chime of Elsa’s good laugh, seen the brightest of smiles grace her lips and all in his presence. He may not have been the cause of such reactions, but it counted to him, still.</p><p>The days flew by like that, with him finding himself caught in Anna’s traps—and quite enjoying it as long as Elsa was involved—and soon it was the eve of the grand Winter Fest. Back in Burgess, the keep would always spring to life whenever Toothiana had planned for an event <strong>of such magnitude</strong>. But seeing Arendelle in motion now that the day of the Winter Fest was almost upon them, their little feasts and dinner parties utterly paled in comparison.</p><p>Hundreds of servants carried thousands of plates and expensive china into the courtyard. Long buffet tables lined the sides and fewer, round tables for the guests were arranged near them. The center area, as well as the raised steps leading inside the palace, was left free of obstruction save for the long, thick rope that was attached to the Yule Bell at the top of the entrance. The surrounding fountains, which weren’t emptied prior to the coming of winter, were decorated with miniature ice sculptures of people skating on the frozen surface. The cobblestone floor was slippery where the royal purple carpet did not cover it; Jack managed to save one or two servants and the trays of food that they were holding as they attempted to walk on the frost-covered ground.</p><p>King Agnarr had given strict instructions that they were to remain within the confines of the courtyard for the celebration. Heightened security would be placed at the gates as well as the perimeter of the courtyard, though they had perceived no threat of a rebel attack. Jack was still apprehensive, however—he’d received a letter from St. North a few days after their arrival in Arendelle. <em>The rebel forces have pulled back, </em>it wrote, and he could hear the suspicion and worry in the older man’s gruff voice. <em>Remain vigilant. Keep safe.</em></p><p>Jack watched the bustling operations below from the balcony of one of the upper drawing rooms, <strong>his silver spear propped against the railing. Following St. North’s missive, he managed to convince King Agnarr to allow him to bring his spear to the celebration; it was better for him to be armed anyway, should things take a turn for the worst. </strong>Beyond the palace walls, the village also went about preparations of their own, their houses decorated with shiny ornaments for the holiday season. There were little shops set up in the village square, and he eyed the broad shouldered Scandinavian man selling a variety of knickknacks just across the bridge. He was thinking of bringing home something for Toothiana; she would have loved to be amidst the busy people of Arendelle.</p><p>“Jack? Are you in here?”</p><p>Gooseflesh rose from his forearms to the back of his neck at the sound of Elsa’s voice; he had been idly passing the box that concealed her gift in between his hands as he was watching the people going about. Quickly shoving the box back into his coat pocket <strong>and nearly knocking his spear over with his elbow</strong>, he cleared his throat and turned around to face her. Elsa stood by the balcony door, clad in a velvet dress bluer than the night sky, the bodice embellished with crystals that shone in different colors as the late morning light bounced off them. Her hair was done in her usual side braid, with delicate snowflake pins stuck in random places along its length. Her neck was bare, an expanse of creamy pale skin, and his fingers twitched to reach for the box that had started to burn a hole through his chest, making his heart beat faster by the minute. <em>Should I give it now? Would she wear it? She looks so—</em></p><p>“You look beautiful, snowfl—”</p><p>“We were just getting ready—”</p><p>They had spoken at the same time, but the surprise on Elsa’s face told him it wasn’t because of that. Though he managed to catch himself before he could finish <em>that </em>word, his chosen term of endearment, her reaction was immediate. No matter how much he had wanted to call her by that again, he felt like it was overstepping a boundary that he promised to respect. “Forgive me, princess.”</p><p>Elsa tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, clearing her throat and turning away from him slightly. “No, it’s no problem,” she blurted out. “I apologize. I’m usually more composed than this—I have absolutely no clue as to what I’m doing.”</p><p>“Hey,” he said, placing both hands on her shoulders whilst resisting the urge to pull her close, “If it’s of any consolation to you, I have no idea what I’m doing, either.”</p><p>Elsa paused, forehead scrunched in thought. Then, she smirked, “So you <em>haven’t</em> been conspiring with Anna to make me forgive you?”</p><p>“Elsa!” Jack exclaimed, stepping back as he took her claim in mock offense. “That is just <em>preposterous! </em>How could you accuse me of such?”</p><p>“I had a hunch. She grew up with a knack for romance, you know.”</p><p>“I can neither confirm nor deny my involvement in your sister’s devious plans, but I for one think it’s working,” countered Jack, wiggling his eyebrows at Elsa, which earned him a light smack on the arm. “Oh, come now, Elsa. Haven’t you been having fun?”</p><p>She rolled her eyes at him. “Whatever you say, my lord.”</p><p>Jack did not cease with his teasing brows. Elsa fixed him with a look. “<em>Fine. </em>Yes, I have been having fun.”</p><p>“That’s it then. That is what we’ll do,” he declared. Elsa stared at him with a look of confusion, head adorably tilted to the side with that all too familiar wrinkle between her brows. “We’ll have <em>fun.”</em></p><p>Before she could object, he quickly added, “We don’t have to be anything else. Just two people, having fun. I’ll even help you get back at Anna if that is what you want.”</p><p>Elsa scoffed loudly. “Have you forgotten who I am, <em>master of mischief?” </em>she teased, crossing her arms and jutting her hip out one side. Jack smiled, remembering. “I still don’t understand <em>how</em> you got that much charcoal powder to begin with.”</p><p>She laughed, covering her mouth daintily with a gloved hand. “Oh, how I’ve missed you,” he sighed as he laughed with her.</p><p>“Don’t do that.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>There wasn’t any heat in her words, unlike the past conversations they had; he decided that he could live with this for now. Elsa extended her hand. “Come. They’re already expecting us. We are about to let the people in. Father will usually give a few words, then the choir will sing as we ring the Bell.”</p><p>“That sounds exciting,” he complimented, giving her one of his softer, more genuine smiles, one that she could not help but return. <strong>He grabbed and twirled his spear at hand, </strong>and as he so often did before, he bowed with the practiced exaggeration of a dandy and took her hand in his—she even allowed him to lightly brush her knuckles with his lips before placing her hand gently on the crook of his arm as they descended to the courtyard together. He made a mental note to thank Anna for her efforts later.</p><p>The courtyard was filled quickly with people by the time they walked through the doors. They were gathered around the raised entry steps that acted as a platform, where the royal family stood, and Elsa left his side to join them. Jack stood next to Bunnymund, a few paces to the side of the platform. He eyed the guards on the upper level surrounding the courtyard, as well as those manning the gates. The people looked excited, whispers among the crowd echoing in the space along with the soft music played by the band next to the choir. None of them seemed to question the presence of heightened security, or the fact that he was armed; maybe it was nothing out of the ordinary when it came to the Oldenburgs, he thought.</p><p>King Agnarr stepped forth, holding his hand up to silence the crowd. The noise immediately died down, and the people turned expectantly to their king. “My fellow Arendellians,” he began, voice ringing loud and clear, “Before we welcome this holiday season with the ceremonial ringing of the Yule Bell, let us first remember the circumstances that had brought this festival into fruition. Let us remember one of the most difficult times our country had experienced. Let us remember, that despite the harshness of winter, our people are strong. That we prevailed against…”</p><p>Jack could feel the inspiration blooming within the people’s chests as the king spoke. Others were nodding in agreement, while some had their eyes closed and heads bowed reverently. He would have been paying much closer attention to his words had a certain redhead not caught his eye, slinking away in the crowd in a hooded cloak, briskly heading towards the gate. The grip on his spear tightened as he squinted at the figure. He muttered a quick excuse to Bunnymund and followed them out, halted only by the guards at the gates. “I’ll only be a minute,” said Jack. One wanted to accompany him, but he ordered the man to stand by his post. “Keep an eye on the crowd,” he said, voice low so as not to attract attention. The guard, after his partner nodded, allowed him passage, and he dashed after the cloaked figure before he could lose them further.</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>Elsa felt the air move behind her and watched Jack push his way through the crowd and to the gates, <strong>knuckles white around the shaft of his spear.</strong> <em>Where on earth is he going?</em> she thought, mild irritance causing her to visibly frown. He was going to miss the ringing of the Yule Bell.</p><p>As her father droned on, Elsa could not help but glance at the gates, her unease growing for every second that Jack did not reappear through them. Her heart thundered in her ribcage, her fingertips unnaturally cold though her palms were moist with sweat. Something wasn’t right.</p><p>Elsa made a move to walk down the raised steps, but Anna caught her wrist. “Where are you going?” she whispered. They both casted a quick glanced at their father; his speech continued without pause.</p><p>“I’ll be right back,” she said, gently prying Anna’s fingers open.</p><p>Elsa joined the crowd, walking as fast as her heels and heavy dress would allow her. Jack should have been back by now. In fact, he should not even have left in the first place since they were under strict orders that they were to remain in the courtyard. Her plan was to order the guard at the gate to look for him. Then, she would walk back up to the platform in time to ring the Yule Bell, and Jack would be back just in time, safe and sound.</p><p>But her pulse raced, and the familiar chill of fear ran down the middle of her back as she edged closer and closer to the gates. She glanced up, at the armed guards on the second level. They were all watching her, but the way their eyes were trained on her did not make her feel safe. It was almost as if, she was a cornered animal, and they the hunters closing in for the kill.</p><p>“And now, without further ado,” her father declared, his voice startling her. “Let us all ring in the season!”</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>Jack jogged across the bridge, where the cloaked figure had made a sharp right turn at the end. He followed them as they wove in and out of the busy streets, away from the village square where most of the holiday bazaar was set up. He could be wrong; he could be stalking an innocent Arendellian villager. But his gut told him otherwise, as did the prickling sensation on the back of his neck. When he lost the figure on the last turn, he realized in slight horror that he was lost in the dim backstreets of Arendelle.</p><p>And he had no idea how to get back.</p><p>He turned just in time for the cloaked figure to grab his sleeve, pulling him further away. “Katherine, what—”</p><p>“What are you <em>doing </em>here?” she snapped. Her hood had fallen, her auburn hair spilling in wild tangles past her shoulders. Jack dug his heel, pulling his arm back from her iron grip. “What am I doing—what are <em>you</em> doing here? How did you get here?”</p><p>“You’re not supposed to be here!” she said, voice tight with panic. “It’s not safe for you here. You have to come with me.”</p><p>“What are you talking about?”</p><p>“Jack, please,” Katherine begged, stepping close to him, hands lightly encircling his wrist in silent entreaty. “You have to come with me. <em>Now.”</em></p><p>“What are you…” When she had stepped forward, daylight allowed him to see what she was wearing beneath the cloak. Firstly, Katherine was wearing trousers and a worn pair of riding boots. <strong>Secondly, she was wearing makeshift armor, with a wide belt strapped across her chest from which a crossbow was attached to, slung behind her back and hidden beneath the cloak.</strong></p><p>The realization dawned on Jack like gray clouds before the onslaught of a raging storm. “You’re one of <em>them</em>.”</p><p>He stepped back from her, flinching away from her touch. Katherine tried to reach for him again. “Jack, I can <em>explain—”</em></p><p>“You’re a rebel!” he growled, turning on his heel and stalking off, away from her, his blood boiling. <strong>His spear glowed red hot in his palm, and it took every ounce of strength that he had not to wield it. </strong>He could hear her quick steps behind him, endeavoring to catch up with his long, furious strides. “Yes, I am, but Jack, you have listen to me,” Katherine pleaded, “I thought that the princess would be leaving alone and I didn’t think you would still come with her after what I did—”</p><p>Jack stopped in his tracks, the blunt end of his spear screeching to a halt against the cobblestones. <em>Meet me in the courtyard. The note. So Katherine did write the note. </em><strong>He whirled around, pinning Katherine against the wall in one swift move with the shaft of his spear, using a tad more force than necessary.</strong> <strong>She clawed at the silver like it burned her, which was now pressing against her windpipe with barely controlled anger. </strong>“How long have you been spying on me?” he demanded. “How long have you been <em>using </em>me?”</p><p>“Jack, please—” gasped Katherine, tears forming in the corners of her eyes, “Let me go—”</p><p>He eased the pressure on her throat with great difficulty, and she slid down the wall, coughing. He was so furious that his free hand wouldn’t stop shaking. He gripped her arm and forced her to stand, not releasing her as he hauled her to her feet. “What else did you do? Why are you here?”</p><p>Katherine turned her head from him, her hair a curtain that only thinly veiled the shame on her face. He shook her hard, once. “Katherine, <em>what did you do?” </em></p><p>The Yule Bell sounded in the distance, followed shortly by screaming and loud sounds of commotion. Jack turned towards the noise, letting Katherine go as he did. He vaguely heard her scampering away into the darkness of the alley like a rat.</p><p>His blood turned to ice in his veins in realization. <em>“Elsa.”</em></p><p>He was already running.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: Next chapter will be as uhh... "graphically violent" as I hope I can write. I just thought it would be fair to warn you all as early as now. Also, thank you for being patient with me. It's getting harder and harder to write with all the college things, so the fact that people still read my story is a huge comfort and motivator for me. Do let me know what you think of this chapter, and what you think will happen next *wink*</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Chapter 24</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WARNING: moderately graphic depictions of violence. Rating subsequently changed from T to M</p><p>A/N: I AM SO SORRY FOR TAKING THIS LONG :(( the internet was down, plus it was holiday season so I had a lot going on (don't worry I was safe - wear a mask people!) Anyways, since 'tis the damn season, I'll be posting this chapter and the next one before the year is up, as a thank you to all who've stuck with me even as the updates take longer and longer. Thank you for all the support, the kind comments and suggestions, and your patience and understanding... I cannot express how much I appreciate you all &lt;3</p><p>Happy Holidays and stay safe everyone!<br/>---<br/>As stated in Chapter 26, I've rewritten some parts in Chapters 23-25. All major edits are in BOLD.</p><p>Main rewrite for this one: How Elsa gets stabbed, but other than that it’s mostly continuity problems, and generally I feel like I could have written this better</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was a moment of peace and celebration as the first toll of the Yule Bell echoed through all of Arendelle—but by the second, the cheering and clapping had turned into terrorized screaming, and the music died in an abrupt, discordant clang.</p><p>The armed guards that had been watching her from the second floor now had drawn crossbows, all of which were aimed at her. “Get down!” Elsa cried, scrambling to get the people, <em>her </em>people, to duck and hide as multiple arrows whizzed past. She kept her head down, corralling those she could reach behind one of the large fountains. Some had the mind to overturn one of the buffet tables to its side for cover; others hid under the rounder tables, where women and children held each other as the younger ones cried. She pressed herself as best as she could under the base on the nearest fountain, her skin tingling uncomfortably as a rush of heat flooded her face. Elsa peered over the fountain’s edge and saw her father standing valiantly next to Matthias, both of their swords drawn. She also saw that some of the people in the crowd had shed their winter cloaks, revealing mismatched armor that looked worse for wear and swords whose blades were rusted with dried blood, closing in steadily on her family.</p><p>“Your Highness!” one of the guards yelled, abandoning his post by the gates to run over to her. His journey was cut short when an arrow found its mark through his left eye, and Elsa was too shocked to even scream as his body fell with a thud on the cobblestone ground.</p><p>Beyond the gates, across the bridge towards the village square, she could see blazing fires; to her horror she realized that the rebels were also attacking the holiday bazaar. <em>Jack, </em>she thought in a panic. Her hands shook and her breathing quickened. She cast a quick glance back at the platform, where Mattias’ men and her father were fending off the rebels while her mother and sister led the people indoors. The firing had ceased, for the Arendellian soldiers had breached the second floor and were pushing against the shooters, while some even attempted to escape by jumping right off the railing. Elsa caught Anna’s eye; her sister had never looked more scared. <em>I’m sorry, </em>she wanted to say. Anna seemed to have gotten the message, because the fear in her wide eyes slowly turned into confusion. Elsa rose from her hiding place, bunched up her skirts in her fists to keep them from shaking, and bolted past the gates, ignoring the painfully loud shriek that Anna made in her wake.</p><p>She had to find Jack. She <em>had </em>to.</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>He could see plumes of smoke rising high above the steep roofs of the village. Wherever Katherine had lead him, it was a smart, safe distance away from what he could only assume was an ensuing melee; Jack decided not to entertain the thought that Katherine might have been trying to protect him as she had claimed. He funneled the anger and betrayal into the adrenaline that shot through his veins, that propelled his legs to carry him through the streets faster than the wind. He kept his eyes trained on the puffs of gray in the sky despite the horrid maze of Arendelle’s back alleys, navigating as best as he could through its twists and turns.</p><p>His ears picked up on distant screaming, still faraway but gradually growing louder; he could also hear the unmistakable clang of metal against metal, accompanied a few loud crashes and bangs. His heart hammered against his chest, his breathing ragged and erratic. <strong>His grip on the shaft of his spear was painfully tight that he was sure he had cut off the circulation in his fingers</strong>, but it didn’t faze him—in fact, it mattered little to him now. He had one thing on his mind, and that was getting back to and protecting <em>Elsa.</em></p><p>Jack was so focused on the beacons of smoke in the sky that he collided painfully with a fleeing villager—<strong>it was a miracle that he didn’t impale them by accident.</strong> <strong>His spear flew out of his hand, rolling some distance away as they both fell to the ground. </strong>The impact knocked the wind right out of his lungs, the left side of his body throbbing from the collision while the right side ached against the cold cobblestones. The villager was a small woman younger than he was, who in her panic recovered quicker than Jack, dashing down the alley without so much as a second glance. Groaning, Jack raised his head in the opposite direction, where an imposing rebel stood, blocking the alley. Even in the dim light, the tip of his broad sword  gleamed tauntingly.</p><p><strong>He could see his spear out of the corner of his eye, just a little ways beyond his reach. He eyed the rebel, who in turn watched him back closely. </strong>As Jack lunged, the rebel charged.</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>The village square was in flames. People were running in every which direction, while some stayed and tried to fight off the rebels that were antagonizing them. Even the kind merchant Oaken, whose trading post she and Anna frequented, was hurling rebels left and right, fiercely protective over his untouched stall. It was more crowded out here than Elsa had thought; she couldn’t take a few steps forward without bumping into someone, and the fires cast shadows that moved and played tricks on her mind. How on earth was she going to find Jack in this chaos?</p><p>“Your Majesty, look out!” Oaken yelled, his thick accent rising above the sounds of screaming. Elsa ducked just in time as a rebel swung his bent sword at her, missing her by only a hair. Elsa straightened as the rebel swung again, and this time she stepped back. Oaken appeared behind him, picking the rebel up by the scruff of his worn shirt as if he weighed nothing and tossing him to the nearest fruit stand. “Thank you,” Elsa breathed gratefully. She bent down to pick up the sword that the rebel had dropped with both hands, steadying her grip on the hilt. “By any chance, have you seen Lord Frost pass through here?”</p><p>“I’m afraid not,” the merchant replied.</p><p>Elsa took a swift look around. “Jack!” she called, straining her ears for any response. “Jack, where are you?”</p><p>The rebels weren’t particularly after her—in fact, they seemed to be more focused on causing chaos. It was either that or they haven’t yet noticed that she was in their midst despite her shouting. “We need to lead the people away from the square!” she told Oaken. The merchant nodded and started calling the crowd's attention, grabbing those that he can and running out of the plaza. The others, after their initial panic, followed him out. The sword felt too heavy in her hands, and her arms shook with the weight as well as the fear. She had never been as comfortable with a sword as she was with a rapier, but this would have to do. There were still rebels around, and with the crowd filing out of the square, she was starting to stand out like a real target.</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>He heard it. He nearly dropped <strong>his bloodied spear </strong>when he heard it.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>“Jack, where are you?”</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>“Elsa!” he called back; no response. Despite the moment of joy that he felt at the sound of her voice, his chest seized up and an icy chill ran down the length of his spine. She was supposed to be safe in the courtyard, in the palace with all the guards. What was she doing all the way out here?</p><p>Jack sprinted down the alley, but it was getting harder for him to safely squeeze through the sea of fleeing people as he got closer to the village square. Unable to fight through the current, he pushed his way to the side instead, leaning against a wall and panting against the heat of suffocation. Elsa’s voice still echoed in his ear, above all the ruckus and shouting. He had to get to her, and <em>fast.</em></p><p>A kiss of a breeze chilled the light sheen of sweat that coated the back of his neck, causing him to glance up. Jack smirked—if there was one thing that he got in trouble a lot for, it was climbing and running on the roofs of the keep back in Burgess.</p><p>Despite his elegantly fitted ceremonial garb <strong>and a spear in one hand,</strong> he was able to quickly scale the trellis of the nearest house. Once on the roof, he was greeted by the fresh, winter wind, blowing through the hair that stuck to his forehead and seemingly filling him with newfound strength. He didn’t do it as often as he had when he was younger, but Jack was as exceptionally light on his feet and still had incredible balance, so the steep slopes were not a hindrance to him. He leapt agilely from one snowy roof to the next, until he finally reached the square. <strong>From his perched stance on the roof,</strong> he saw dozens of stalls ablaze, the remaining crowd slightly obscured by the thickening smoke, their silhouettes like shadows dancing on the cobblestones. <strong>Across the bridge,</strong> he could also see that the gates had been shut closed, and were heavily under siege.</p><p>Jack’s eyes scanned the crowd below, hoping to spot the pale blonde of Elsa’s hair or the midnight blue of her dress, heart beating faster with each second that he doesn't see her yet—</p><p>“JACK!”</p><p>His eyes darted toward the shrill sound of her voice, and he almost cried in relief when the smoke cleared and there she stood, hair undone from their braided style and sticking out in odd places, the remaining snowflake pins in her hair gleaming like a beacon that called him home. Elsa had a sword in hand, and was currently swinging it against an attacker. She was good, but the rebel was quicker and much more familiar with the weapon than she was. Even from the roof, he could see the determination on Elsa’s face as she faced her attacker head-on.</p><p>Jack was already planning to scale the side of the house down when the <strong>loud click of a crossbow’s locking mechanism</strong> reached his ears. His head swiveled towards the source of the noise, which wasn’t very far from his left, and his jaw dropped when he saw Katherine on a nearby terrace—<strong>target sighted and ready to fire, her finger poised on the trigger.</strong></p><p>Springing into action, Jack flew across the roofs, heart pounding in his throat and pulse thrumming in his ears. <strong>Katherine had not seen him yet, but he had to warn Elsa. He waited until he was a few leaps away from Katherine before he shouted, </strong>“ELSA! RUN!”</p><p><strong>He dared not spare a second to check whether or not Elsa had heard him—either way, his plan had worked. </strong>Katherine’s head whipped around to meet his determined gaze with a look of surprise. <strong>He hoped that Katherine’s distraction would buy Elsa the opportunity to flee.</strong></p><p>
  <strong>Then the world around him started slowing down; Jack could see the arrow tip glinting in the light as Katherine turned to aim her weapon at him. He saw her index finger curl to squeeze the trigger, and he knew he only had scant seconds to act before his former lover ends him for good. Jack held his breath and threw his spear, exhaling with a cry as it sliced through the thick, smoky air. Time sped up the farther his spear traveled—Jack was still running by the time the dagger-like tip of his spear lodged itself in the dead center of Katherine’s crossbow, obliterating the weapon’s base to bits of wood chips.</strong>
</p><p><strong>Katherine staggered back, flustered but otherwise unhurt.</strong> “Jack, wait, <em>stop</em>—”</p><p>He used her surprise to his advantage—Jack jumped from the roof and grabbed on to the beam above Katherine’s head and, using his momentum to swing his legs forward, sent the both of them toppling over the terrace edge.</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>“ELSA! RUN!”</p><p>She whirled around at the sound of his voice, spotting a running figure on the roof past the smoke. <em>Is that…?</em></p><p>The next thing Elsa heard was the sound of breaking wood and a loud crash on the cobblestones somewhere beyond the burning stand in front of her. Before she could run to it, the rebel thrusted his sword forward, slicing the air around her and nearly gutting her in the process. Elsa parried with a little more force than necessary, catching the rebel off-guard with her renewed vigor and granting her an opening—she sliced through the inside of his calf with her blade, and the rebel fell on his knee, yowling in pain as blood squirted out of his wound.</p><p>Without wasting a breath, she bunched up her skirts in one hand and ran towards the pile of rubble and snow on the ground from the crash she just heard. <strong>She saw a figure running—rather, <em>limping—</em>away from the scene, but she paid no heed to them. </strong>The wooden panels on the ground shifted, and when she caught the sight of stark white hair, she made a sound between a sigh and a sob. <em>“Jack!” </em>she cried, barely able to contain the tears that were building up in the corners of her eyes. She threw herself against him before he could even sit up properly, sword forgotten and arms laced around his neck. He grunted in response, arms encircling her to return the gesture, but was quick to pull both of them behind a nearby stack of barrels to hide. <strong>Jack seemed to be unharmed from his fall—albeit</strong> his hair was spattered with splinters, and there was a small cut on his forehead right where his eyebrow met his temple. <strong>He looked panicked; he was frantically patting down his snow-dusted coat for something, but before Elsa could ask, Jack sighed loudly in relief with his hand over his left breast. “What are you still doing here?” Jack demanded, blue eyes flashing as fixed her with a stony look. “I told you to run! Why are you even here in the first place? It is too dangerous for you to be out here!”</strong></p><p>Elsa felt a brief surge of anger, the tears of joy in her eyes evaporating in its wake.  She grabbed the collar of his vest, forcing him to focus on her as she said, “I saw you leave. I came <em>for you.”</em></p><p>Jack’s eyes widened, brows contorted in a mix of realization and guilt. Then he shook his head and his expression shifted, eyes hard and gaze intense, his jaw clenched so tightly that she could see his muscle firing. <strong>“Stay close to me and do not let go of my hand,” he ordered. “We have to get you somewhere safe. The gates are sealed and there is no way for us to fight our way through there right now.”</strong></p><p>Elsa nodded, lacing her fingers through his and gripping his hand hard as instructed. Jack peeked through the top of their barrel cover to check for any enemies, then basically dragged her out of their hiding place so quickly that she nearly tripped over the hem of her skirts. <strong>He bent down to pick up his spear as they dashed out of their hiding spot,</strong> slowing down only a little so that she could keep up with his long strides.</p><p>They ran past the smoke that fortunately served as their cover—unfortunately, it also made seeing incoming rebels a tad more difficult. She heard something snap beneath a boot heel, and saw the shadow immediately after. “Look out!” Elsa yelped, pulling Jack backward just as a silver blade sliced through the smoke, right where his throat should have been. Jack shoved her behind him as spear met sword, their collision sending a few sparks in the air. Elsa stepped away as they fought, looking to the ground for anything she could use to help. <strong>However, it was not long before Jack plunged the spear deep into their attacker’s chest, the man falling to his knees with blood gurgling in his mouth. He yanked the spear from the man’s body and grabbed her arm, and they continued running.</strong></p><p>
  <strong>Elsa did not know where they were headed. Amidst the smoke and chaos, her sense of direction failed her. She was mortified. She did not even know how far out the rebels had gone from the holiday bazaar. Was her family safe? The villagers, her people… did they make it out of the courtyard alive? Where were the guards? Did they even know that she and Jack were out here, fighting for their lives?</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Jack’s hand slid down her arm to grasp her hand tightly, leading her away from the village square and, more importantly, giving her something to focus on other than her scrambled thoughts. They were together now; she’d never been more relieved to be with him.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>They barely made it out into the main street when something hard rammed into her side, tearing her away from Jack. She hit the ground with bone-shattering force, the wind knocked out of her as whatever it was that hit her landed right on top of her. Her left ear was ringing, and she saw multicolored stars in her vision; then the weight was gone, and she was too dazed to move before she saw a slice of silver through the air and pain erupted from her side.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>“Elsa!” Jack cried, <strong>turning around just in time to see the knife plunge through the side of her waist as she screamed in agony. Her assailant straddled her waist while Elsa writhed in pain beneath them. Jack ran to her as they raised the knife a second time, but </strong>before he could reach her, someone else’s fist collided painfully with his jaw, his vision blacking out as he fell on all fours. <strong>He heard his spear fall to the cobblestones somewhere with a clang, and as he felt around for it, </strong>a heavy, pointed boot kicked him in the abdomen, leaving him gasping for breath, causing him to curl up on his side as he craddled his sore ribs. He coughed and sucked in gulps of air, <strong>but the very expansion of his chest as he breathed sent waves of pain throughout his body.</strong> When his vision cleared enough, he could see a group of men closing in on Elsa as she tried to drag herself from them, her gloves already soaked with her own blood. “What did you do?” one of them said. <strong>He seemed to have pulled Elsa’s earlier assailant off of her, given that he now stood between them. </strong>“She was supposed to be unharmed!”</p><p>The assailant, a taller, stockier man, slapped the one who spoke with the back of his hand so hard that he staggered backward. Through his blurred vision, Jack could make the outline of an eyepatch on the taller man’s face. His brows furrowed, anger coursing through his veins and numbing the ache in his ribs. How did they escape prison?</p><p>“I know my orders, boy. The King will still have the North, one way or another,” he growled. He turned to Elsa, then straddled her waist once more and wrapped his large hands around her neck. “Let’s see how much more trouble you can cause when I’m through with you.”</p><p>Elsa’s tiny gasps for air seemed to clear his head of the all pain and Jack lunged at the eye-patched man with a cry, grabbing his torso and pulling him off of Elsa, sending them a few feet from her side. His head was still swimming, and before he knew it he was standing with his arms behind his back while another man threw punches at his midsection, each one making it more difficult for him to breathe. He could taste blood in his mouth and more stars clouded his vision, but just past the corner of his eye, he saw the eye-patched man stand and make his way to Elsa once more. Jack’s heart raced in his bruised ribs, and he cried out, whipping his head back against his captor’s face, hearing the bone crunch beneath his skull. He felt the hilt of the man’s sword and unsheathed it, slicing upward through the air as the other man charged, spilling his entrails onto the cobblestones at his feet. His captor, now with a broken and bloody nose, pushed him forward brashly and in his dazed state caused him to drop his sword. But Jack felt what seemed to be the shaft of a broken <strong>pole</strong> next to his knee, and the familiarity of it in his palm filled him with adrenaline. His captor charged, and he threw the <strong>pole</strong> at him, its jagged tip burying itself in the man’s windpipe.</p><p>Jack stood up from his knees shakily, <strong>looking desperately around for his spear</strong> <strong>until he found it just few ways to his right. He dove for it and</strong> turned around to face the eye-patched man. By all accounts, he was ready to let his trusty spear fly again: his vision was clearer this time, his aim was true and his lungs were functioning properly enough to help him breathe. The only thing that steadied his hand was—</p><p>“Not so fast, my lord,” he taunted. He held Elsa up by her long hair, flush against the front of his body, the silver dagger digging slightly into the pulse on the side of her neck. She was still conscious, one hand clawing meekly at the iron grip on her hair while the other was pressed flat against the deep gash on the curve of her waist. The bodice of her dress was almost entirely red from the blood that bloomed from her side, her face as white as the snow around them. Jack gripped the shaft of his spear so hard that it was shaking, the dagger-tip pointed right at the man’s face. <em>“Let. Her. Go.” </em>he hissed through gritted teeth. He wanted so badly for his spear to find its home through the man's remaining eye. Jack could do it, but he knew how fast the man moved. Elsa would die with him.</p><p>The man laughed maniacally. The movement made Elsa wince, and he yanked at her hair harder. “I do not think so, little lordling. The King will not be happy at her current predicament, but he still needs her to ensure his empire. Walk away, boy. Walk, and she lives.”</p><p>Jack did not want to put the spear down. He did not want to <em>walk. </em>But when Elsa met his eyes and nodded her head in the most subtle of movements, he felt his jaw unclench and his grip ease on the shaft against his will. <em>Go, </em>she said. <em>It’s alright.</em></p><p>He fixed the man with a deep scowl and threw his spear to the ground in surrender, which earned him a malicious smirk. “That’s a good lad,” the man said. A deep growl emanated from the back of Jack’s throat. <strong>The man smirked, and as he was about to leave with a final word, his head thunked forward as if somebody had hit him in the back of the head with a snowball. But it wasn’t a snowball—</strong>Jack could just see the tip of a pick axe pass through the center of his forehead. His hold on Elsa’s hair loosened, and they both collapsed, his body to the right and Elsa's to the left. Jack dove forward, catching her before she hit the cobblestones. “Jack…” she murmured weakly, forehead nuzzled against his neck.</p><p>“I’m here,” he replied. He pulled her flush against his body, hand clamped down on hers over her wound. “I’m here, snowflake.”</p><p>He picked up his spear from the ground and raised it defensively as the axe-thrower approached, daring him to come any closer. Past the smoke and shadow, there was something familiar about the man’s build, the straw in his clothes, the blonde hair—</p><p>“Wait,” Jack said, “I <em>know</em> you.”</p><p>The axe-thrower lowered his hands. “My name is Kristoff, my lord. I’m a friend of Anna’s.”</p><p>That was when Jack realized—it was the stable boy.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Chapter 25</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As stated in Chapter 26, I've rewritten some parts in Chapters 23-25. All major edits are in BOLD.</p><p>Main rewrite for this one: mostly just continuity issues. This was the chapter I rushed the most to write</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kristoff knelt beside her, honey-colored eyes quickly assessing Elsa’s injuries. There were bruises that formed a necklace around her neck, and she was losing a lot of blood from the cut right at the small of her waist. “We have to get her back to the palace. The royal physician will be there,” he said.</p><p>“The gates are closed and under attack,” Jack said. “Is there any other way through?”</p><p>“Sven and I can take you to the stables. There’s a passage to the main wing from there.”</p><p><em>Sven? </em>Jack thought, just as Kristoff put his fingers to his lips and whistled loudly. After a few seconds of silence, he heard the clopping of hooves on the pavement, and from the smoke-covered plaza emerged a huge reindeer, pulling along a cart that Jack recognized was used for hauling ice. “Elsa, look at me,” he said, his voice loud and a little shaky. Elsa’s eyelids fluttered open, her pale lips parted and dry. Her face was white like a ghost’s, brows furrowed in pain. “Keep pressure on the wound while I carry you.”</p><p>She did as she was told, both hands pressed as firmly as she could on her side while Jack slipped his arms beneath her body and carried her to the back of the sled. Kristoff <strong>tossed his spear in the back with them and hopped into the driver’s seat, giving the reins a sharp tug. </strong>“Go, Sven!” he commanded, and at the urgency of his rider’s voice, the reindeer galloped at incredible speed, leading them away from the village square in seconds.</p><p>Jack tried to make Elsa as comfortable as possible; she was half-sitting up in between his legs with her back against his chest, which helped to stabilize her position what with the uneven cobblestones and the bursts of speed that Sven was putting on. She was quiet save for a couple of sharp intakes of breath whenever they hit a bump on the road. Jack slowly eased her hands from the wound, gently peeling the bloodied gloves from her fingers. As he did, he eyed the laceration on her side; the gash was deeper than it was long, cutting through even the baleen boning in her corset. Tossing her gloves aside, Jack ripped the cravat off his neck and pressed it against her waist, but even that was quickly soaked through with blood.</p><p>“Hang in there, snowflake,” he whispered, holding her close, “We’re almost there.”</p><p>Elsa’s bloodied hands feebly rested on top of his, weakly pressing down with him. Her fingers were cold to the touch; he hugged her closer, chanting a silent prayer as he pressed his lips on the top of her head.</p><p>Kristoff coaxed more speed from Sven the reindeer by snapping the reins, albeit a little too harshly. They seemed to be far from the village square now, and Jack was grateful that Kristoff chose a path that wasn’t heavily overrun by the rebels. From what he could see given his position on the sled, the rebels have gone beyond the holiday bazaar and were raiding the village homes. They passed under a small bridge, and Kristoff was too focused on the road to notice that a rebel was standing right above them. “Look out!” Jack cried out, just as the rebel jumped off the bridge and landed in their cart.</p><p>Kristoff let go of the reins and easily stepped over the seat, picking up a small lute in the corner of the sled and swinging it at the rebel. The lute surprisingly did not break, but it did do a good job of stunning the rebel when it collided with his face. Kristoff then hoisted the man over his shoulder and was about to throw him out of the cart, but the man was quick—he grabbed hold of Kristoff’s arms just as he was about to shrug him off and managed to take Kristoff down with him. “Kristoff!” Jack yelled. Sven, realizing that his rider was nowhere on the cart, started to slow down.</p><p>“Leave me!” Kristoff shouted back. He blocked an incoming blow from the rebel, and was now struggling to hold him back from following suite. “Sven knows the way. Go!”</p><p>The reindeer seemed to understand his words. Reluctantly at first, Sven picked up speed once more, and Kristoff disappeared around the corner.</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>At the moment, Jack was more worried about stopping the bleeding than leaving both of their fates to Sven the reindeer. “One second, snowflake,” he whispered, worming out of his position behind Elsa. She leaned on the back of the sled instead, resting her head on a sack of what looked to be fresh carrots. Jack rummaged through Kristoff’s things until he found a small pocket knife. He then crawled back to Elsa’s side, and after muttering a quick apology, began shredding the hem of her dress to use as makeshift bandages.</p><p>Even in her stupor, Elsa managed to cast him a sharp glare. “I’ll replace it, I promise,” Jack said, grinning sheepishly. “Lie still.”</p><p>He wound the bandages around her waist as quickly and as efficiently as he could, trapping his blood-soaked cravat against the cut. When he moved to tie the bandage in a knot, Elsa hissed and groaned, digging her nails painfully hard into his shoulder. “I’m sorry." He cast his eyes downward and away from her, sitting back on his haunches. “I shouldn’t have left.”</p><p>The claw in his shoulder released him, and her hand fell to rest on top of his. “Jack…” she began, but Sven grunted loudly, announcing that they were close. “We’re nearly there, snowflake. Hang on just a little while longer,” he said as they approached the castle. Elsa closed her eyes.</p><p>As Sven slowed to a halt, Jack leapt out of the cart and tossed a carrot at him in gratitude, and in apology—he resented ever doubting the reindeer’s instincts in the first place.</p><p>When he circled back to the sled, Elsa was barely moving. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her shallow breaths fewer and farther in between. Jack carried her again, her head lolling limply against his shoulder. He looked around wildly for the passage that Kristoff had mentioned and found a small door at the end of the stables. He shouldered it open, which bounced back from the outside wall with a loud bang. Jack followed the dimly lit passage, running as fast as he could through it until he was back within the halls of the Arendelle castle.</p><p>“Somebody, help! Please!” cried Jack, helpless and unable to prevent the panic from seeping into his voice. His knees shook, not from Elsa’s weight, but from fear. He remembered how easily it was for him to get lost in these halls—where he emerged from the stables was unfamiliar territory, and he didn’t know where to go from there. “HELP! PLEASE!”</p><p>“My lord, wha—”</p><p>It was the butler who had given him and Bunnymund the tour—Kai, he recalled. His face paled when his eyes travelled down to Elsa’s unconscious form in his arms. “Send for the physician immediately. She's lost a lot of blood,” Jack ordered sternly.</p><p>“The physician is already here for the Queen,” Kai replied. “This way. I’ll take you to her quarters first.”</p><p>He and Kai quickly navigated the halls, and with each second Jack’s heartbeat grew louder in anticipation. He didn’t even realize that he was dangerously out of breath until Kai opened the door and he gently set Elsa down on her bed. “Stay with me, Elsa,” he begged repeatedly, desperation dripping from his ragged voice, grasping her hand in his as he knelt by her bed. He vaguely heard Kai run out of the room again to fetch the physician.</p><p>
  <em>“Stay with me.”</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>If it weren’t for the solid heat of Jack’s body pressed against hers, Elsa would have thought that she was dreaming—or, at least, trapped in such a dream-like state. Everything she heard was muted, as if the world was underwater, and likewise, her every movement was torturously slow, even the echoes of her breath in her ears. Her entire body was cold and slowly turning numb. She was sleepy and wanted very much to succumb to her weariness, but every time the depths of slumber threatened to swallow her, she would hear his voice. <em>Hang in there, </em>he said, and her soul could not help but obey.</p><p>She forced her eyes to flutter open, but she couldn’t see past the darkness that clouded them. She now noticed something soft along her back—was she lying in her bed? The latent heat from her side was fading, and panic settled in her chest. Where was Jack? Did she lose him?</p><p>She started to twist around, wincing when she moved her torso, until she felt Jack’s heat concentrated on her hand. <em>Stay with me, </em>he pleaded. Elsa grasped his hand as hard as she could, clinging to the feel and sound of him like her life depended on it. She strained her ears to listen for more voices—she definitely picked up Pabbie's voice, the royal physician, and then a woman’s. But whether it was her mother or her sister, she was unsure.</p><p>A hand cradled the base of her head and tilted it up a little, then something hard and cold grazed her teeth, releasing a viscous liquid into her mouth that in normal circumstances would have made her eyes water with its extreme bitterness. She coughed weakly as the liquid oozed down the length of her throat. Whatever that was, it made hearing the voices and fighting the drowsiness more difficult. She poured all of what remained of her concentration into her hand, which in her drunken state made her believe that it glowed with the heat of the sun.</p><p>Then white-hot pain seared through her wounded side, cutting through her numbness like a knife, and it took her a while to realize that a scream had torn itself from her throat and her eyes had flown wide open.</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>Jack watched as Queen Iduna emptied a tiny vial of laudanum into Elsa’s mouth. King Agnarr stood anxiously behind his wife as she caressed their daughter’s face, an endless stream of tears cascading down her cheeks. “Her wound is deep,” said the physician—Pabbie, as the King had called him, a stout old man with thin wisps of graying hair wildly sticking out from the crown of his head. His eyes, appearing beady in contrast to his bulbous nose, were hard with worry. “I must clean her wound. The blade could have been poisoned, and the cut made to infect her blood.”</p><p>Anna was assisting him, the slight shake in her hands as she handed Pabbie an uncorked bottle betraying her steely expression. “What is that?” asked Jack. Pabbie didn’t answer him as he poured the bottle’s contents onto the open wound, eliciting a hair-raising cry from Elsa.</p><p>He heard nothing else after that. His heart raced and the distress caused by the sound made it hard to breathe, his entire body shivering as if he had fallen into the cold depths of the sea again. He couldn’t think, he didn’t know what to do; he only knew that Elsa was in pain, and that fact alone hurt him more than when he had almost drowned.</p><p><em>I came back for you, </em>she had said.</p><p>This was all <em>his </em>fault.</p><p>Before he knew it the King was hauling him to his feet, and he was too stunned to even resist. Elsa’s hand slipped from his slackened grasp, and he tried not to think about how she reached for <em>him </em>even as the King steered him away. It was only when the door closed that the dazed spell was lifted—he could hear how loudly he was panting, and he could see how badly his hands were trembling. “My King, I <em>have</em> to be in there—”</p><p>“Pabbie needs better access to clean the wound as much as he can before he could start stitching it up, son,” the King said stonily, picking at his golden cufflinks in agitation. “Did you see who did this?”</p><p>“One of the prisoners who attacked us on the ship escaped—the man with the eyepatch.” Jack ran his fingers through his hair and tugged at it, the dull pain grounding him and sparking a memory. “He kept saying something about a King and his empire, and how he needs Elsa to attain it.”</p><p>At this, King Agnarr paused his fidgeting. He then sighed deeply, turned sharply on his heel and stalked off down the hallway, angry stomps reverberating off the walls of the empty hallway.</p><p>When he was alone, Jack took to anxiously pacing the length of the hall outside Elsa’s door. Every minute felt like an hour, and he was absolutely certain that he had worn a path on the carpet from the excessive walking. The noises behind the door were almost non-existent, so he had no clue what was happening to Elsa. He tried not to think about how slackly Elsa’s hand had fallen out of his as he left, or how pale her face had been when he’d last seen it. But the image had been burned into the back of his mind, and it seared through his vision whenever he looked at his hands and clothes and found her blood staining them.</p><p>“Jack!” a voice called from the opposite end of the hall. Bunnymund pulled him in for a quick and hard embrace before he could look up, the older man clapping him on the back before he let go. “I thought we lost you, you little bugger—you were not supposed to leave!”</p><p>“I know,” he replied despondently, voice tired and empty. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>Bunnymund seemed to be taken aback at how quick his apology had come. “I heard your betrothed was hurt,” he said, albeit awkwardly though the concern in his eyes was there. “Let me stay here in your stead while you clean yourself up. I promise that I will come get you whenever something happens.”</p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p>But Jack <em>wasn’t </em>fine at all. He didn’t want to leave Elsa’s side. Never again.</p><p><em>“Go,</em> lad.” Bunnymund placed a firm hand on his shoulder, green eyes shining—gazing into them, Jack felt his heart sink. He had never felt more defeated.</p><p>He nodded his head only once, his voice coming out small. “When I return, send word to North. There might be rebel spies among the servants, and I want to have <em>all </em>of them checked and cleared.”</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>The time it took for Jack to toss his bloodied clothes aside and jump into his cleaner ones before running back out the door would have set a new world record. <strong>He had accidentally glimpsed himself in the mirror right before he threw on a new shirt—his body was riddled with bruises that were turning yellow around the edges, spattered with crusty splotches of dried blood where it had soaked through his clothes. He could see no other cuts save for the one on his brow, which was fairly shallow and had started to scab. Jack shook himself and quickly rubbed off Elsa’s blood on his torso with a damp towelette before discarding that, too. The bloodied cloth landed on the floor near his coat, where Elsa’s gift peeked through his inner pocket. Jack was beyond grateful that the gift itself wasn’t damaged; the box, however, got dented from his fall, causing a small tear on the silver cover. He sighed and continued to dress, and was soon out the door in only a pair of trousers and shirtsleeves.</strong></p><p>Bunnymund spotted him from the hall as soon as he turned the corner, then promptly left to carry out his order. Then Jack resumed his pacing, but not two steps later the door to Elsa’s bedroom opened.</p><p>“How is she?” he asked before Pabbie could even shut the door.</p><p>“She is resting, my lord. She’ll be fine,” Pabbie announced with a weak smile, his voice rough with exhaustion. “Her injuries do not seem to show any signs of infection, but one cannot be too sure. I shall be returning every day for the next week to check her progress.”</p><p>Jack breathed a sigh of relief, covering his face with his hands to keep himself from laughing out of manic joy. <strong>“Is there anything else I can do for you, my lord? Are you hurt as well?”</strong></p><p>
  <strong>“Just a few bruises,” Jack answered. <em>And maybe a broken rib or two. </em>“They can wait until tomorrow morning.” </strong>
</p><p>The door opened again, and this time Anna emerged. “Thank you, Pabbie,” she said quietly. The old physician nodded and left, leaving Jack and Anna alone outside Elsa’s room.</p><p>Anna’s hands were still shaking, dried blood flaking away under her nails. She looked as tired, if not more, as Pabbie did. “Anna, I am so sorry,” he whispered. “I know I made a promise, to always look after Elsa, and I failed. I—”</p><p>“No, Jack. Do not do that to yourself. She made her choice. She chose to go after you,” Anna said. She then raised her brow and pursed her lip. “Although, admittedly she would not have made that call in the first place if <em>you </em>had stayed put.”</p><p>Jack lowered his head. “I <em>am </em>sorry.”</p><p>Anna groaned in mock exasperation and surprised him with a bone-crushing hug. “But she also would not have made it back if it weren’t for you, so thank you, Jack. For bringing my sister home.”</p><p><strong>Jack returned her embrace—despite every muscle and bone in his midsection screaming at him in agony. </strong>“Don’t thank me. It was your friend, Kristoff. He saved us.”</p><p>At this, Anna pulled back in surprise, eyes wide and cheeks tinged pink. “Did he, now?”</p><p>Before Jack could ask any further, Anna cut him off, saying, “I’ll have to take care of my mother first. She’s feeling ill from all the hysterics. Do you mind staying with Elsa for the night?”</p><p>“Of course not, princess,” he answered. “I am appalled that you even thought to still ask me that.”</p><p>Anna rolled her eyes. “I’ve already cleaned her up and her bed as much as I could without disturbing her. There’s laudanum on her bedside table for the pain. If you need m—”</p><p>“I can manage, Anna,” he said, stopping her with a reassuring grin and a hand on her shoulder. The princess nodded, opening the door for him and assisting Queen Iduna out. He locked eyes with the queen for a moment, and past the redness and the swelling from tears he saw gratitude in them. He nodded in acknowledgement as Anna closed the door behind them, after which he carried one of the ornate chairs in the room and placed it next to Elsa’s bed.</p><p>He had not gotten a good look at Elsa until he sat down on the upholstered chair next to the bedside table, where a lamp feebly glowed, illuminating her face. Her features were soft and vulnerable, fast asleep with her silken hair strewn all over her pillows. She was tucked in up to her shoulders, leaving only one of her arms free from the heavy duvet. In the meek lamplight, the bluish bruises on her neck stood out in stark contrast to her creamy skin, the pallor of which matched the ivory white of her shift. In this way, with her wounded side hidden beneath her blankets, he could pretend that they were at Ombric’s again, after he carried her from the library. He clasped her free hand in both of his, holding it tightly to his lips and breathing warm air on it. “I’m here, snowflake,” he whispered, leaning over her. He brushed her hair from her face and left a quick kiss on her forehead before leaning back on his chair. “I’m here.”</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>Elsa did not know what time it was, only that it was still dark and it was comfortingly warm. Her eyelids felt like they were glued together, and it took her a tremendous amount of effort to peel one of them open. The drowsiness was likewise difficult to fight; the last thing she remembered before succumbing to exhaustion was something hot in her hand, and a blinding amount of pain lighting her nerves on fire from her right side—her wounded side.</p><p>Interestingly, the heat in her palm was still there. Then she remembered that it was Jack, holding her hand through it all. She remembered panicking when she couldn’t feel it anymore, right after the wave of pain that engulfed her. It took her a couple of tries, but she finally managed to wake, blinking slowly through her blurred vision.</p><p>Turning her neck towards her hand had made her joints cry in pain; she’d been stuck in this position for a while, it seemed. But there he was, still holding her hand, his forehead resting on top of their entwined fingers. He was fast asleep, she realized. Elsa looked around to discover that they were alone. Pabbie’s brew of laudanum was a little too strong—on the one hand, she felt none of the pain. On the other, her head ached even as she turned it just a fraction to the left, and she was already feeling the magnetic pull of slumber once more.</p><p>Though her arm felt heavier than lead, she managed to pull her fingers free from Jack’s grip, brushing them instead through the soft hair on the back of his head. The subtle movement of her fingers must have woken him—he lifted his head sleepily, an angry red spot on the side of his head and cheek from where he had fallen asleep on his face. “Are… are you sure you’re quite comfortable?” she asked, her words sounding slurred and breathless. Her hand weakly trailed down the nape of his neck to the spot just below his ear. Jack sighed, reaching for it and warming it between his own. “Can I get you anything?”</p><p>Elsa shook her head—or, rather, turned it ever so slightly to the right then grunted at her stiff joints. “Go back to sleep, snowflake. You've had a long day.”</p><p>Sleep sounded wonderful, but—“I just wanted to see if you were alright.”</p><p>At that, Jack barked a harsh laugh, his cold blue eyes turning hard and sharp as ice. “I’m not the one with an inch-deep gash on the side of my body, princess.”</p><p>Elsa tried to chuckle in return but ended up wincing at the dulled pain, her brow furrowing slightly. Jack’s expression softened. “Anna told me what you did. You shouldn’t have come after me,” he murmured, shamefully dropping his head so low that his hair fell into his eyes.</p><p>“Oh, you fool boy,” she breathed. Her eyelids were getting heavier by the second. She fought against the drowsiness, reaching again to cup Jack’s face ever so gently. She gave him a small smile. “Despite everything that had happened before, and in spite of what you might think, you are important to me, Jack Frost. You <em>always</em> have been.”</p><p>She didn’t get to hear what he had to reply to that, for sleep had wrapped its languid arms around her and pulled her back into its depths, filling her head with dreams of the sun in her hand that kept her warm as she sunk deeper into unconsciousness.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: Hello guys ^_^ I just wanted to say thanks for all the kind comments and support and I wish everyone a brighter new year! Also because of personal reasons and school, I might not be able to update til Feb which was why I tried to push for two chapters this holiday break. Sorry I failed to post before the new year but I do hope you still enjoy this one ^_^ HAPPY NEW YEAR GUYS!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Chapter 26</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N (PLEASE READ FIRST!):<br/>I know I promised an update last February, but due to unforeseen personal circumstances (and my uni reducing our break from three weeks to just two) I haven't had enough time to write with everything that happened. Because of this, I went over the last three chapters to refresh myself (chapters 23-25). Remembering that I wrote these chapters in haste, I decided to rewrite some parts. I thought about leaving it alone but honestly I wasn’t satisfied with my own work, and I’m sorry I left it at that for you all. For me, it’s better to move forward in writing knowing that I’d written the previous chapters the way I wanted it done than to let it be simply because it’s already published.<br/>For easier reading, I’ll be marking the rewrites in BOLD lettering, which I will then remove when my story’s finished, that way we can all catch up and meet on the same page.</p><p>As always, happy reading, and do leave comments and kudos! I appreciate every single one even though I don’t reply to everything. I'm just glad that you all are still here even if my uploads have been getting later and later. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jack woke to the sound of a soft knock coming from the door. Waking up was difficult; blinking away the sleepiness, he raised his head, grimacing sourly because of the crick in his neck. Elsa was still fast asleep, her chest rising and falling evenly under the bedclothes. There was a small smile formed on her lips; he felt comforted at the thought of her having good dreams after the ordeal she went through, his own smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he glanced down at their still entwined fingers. The knocking came again, this time moderately louder. “Come in,” he called, and the door opened softly to let Pabbie and Anna in. “Good morning, my lord,” the physician greeted cheerily.</p><p>“Good—” Jack winced, even as he slowly tried to lean back in his chair from being bent over for so long. If his torso muscles did not hate him then, they surely despise him now <em>“—morning.”</em></p><p>Pabbie made a dismayed clicking noise with his tongue, quickly rummaging through the leather bag that he carried with him. “Here,” he said, handing Jack a small stoppered bottle, filled about halfway with a clear, runny liquid. “A tablespoon twice daily for several days should reduce the pain. May I?”</p><p>Jack nodded, and Pabbie started assessing his middle, poking and prodding his torso here and there with quick, stubby fingers. He winced and hissed at the sorest spots—the bottom part of his ribs, his entire abdomen—but Pabbie reassured him that nothing was broken, only badly bruised and tender. “I suggest that you lie down, my lord. Let the body rest and recuperate.”</p><p>“On a bed this time,” Anna added. “Not hunched over one.”</p><p>He didn’t want to leave Elsa’s side, but Jack was still tired and too sleepy to argue. Feeling much like a scolded child, he uttered a quick excuse, promising to return after getting proper rest. He cast one last glance at Elsa before shutting the door closed, dragging his feet all the way back to his own bed and not getting lost once, even in his sleepy stupor.</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>For the next few days that would be his routine. He and Anna would take turns watching over Elsa throughout the day. Jack would accompany her after dinner and all the through the night until Anna comes back in the morning to take his place. While Elsa was under Anna’s care, he would rest in his own bed for the entire afternoon. Pabbie’s decoction worked wonders for his body, so much so that his muscles felt immediately less sore after the first few doses. It did, however, make him extremely drowsy, so in the end he did have no choice but to lie down and rest.</p><p>Elsa was likewise still heavily drugged. She was awake for only a few hours at a time; the King and Queen usually stopped by during those moments, with the former rarely so what with the damage he had to control following the catastrophic events of the Winter Fest. Elsa’s injuries thankfully showed no signs of infection, but they still made it difficult for her to move around. Pabbie had recommended complete bedrest until she fully healed with smaller doses of his own medicinal brew to numb the pain. If whatever he gave to Elsa was as good as the medicine he gave to Jack, then Elsa would be strong enough to sit and stand again on her own within a fortnight.</p><p>Though he was supposed to take his decoction twice daily, he would often skip his second dose if only because he wanted to be alert enough while Elsa slept. He did not like how deeply he slept while on medication, and he wanted to make sure that he would wake if ever she should need his assistance with anything in the night. Elsa had been sleeping much more peacefully, thanks to her medicine—but he would still wake during ungodly hours to her groaning and grumping against the pillows, the worry crease making an unwelcome appearance between her scrunched brows as her face contorted in a stressed frown. Luckily, by the second night of his watch, Jack had finally figured out how to smooth that pesky little crease away whenever sleep troubled her—all he had to do was give her a quick, gentle kiss on the forehead whilst brushing his fingers through her hair, until she finally settled back against her pillows. Jack was a little too pleased at himself at this adorable little discovery, and he had the darkness of the night to thank for hiding his smug grin and keeping it a secret.</p><p>Another thing he discovered was that Elsa liked playing with <em>his </em>hair, much like he did with hers. As with his medicine, his stubbornness kept him from finding a proper sleeping position on the settee in Elsa’s room instead of sitting on a chair and hunching over the side of her bed. Sometimes, he would wake in the middle of the night to the feeling of her fingers curled in his hair, at the point just above the base of his head. He was used to the feeling now that he didn’t jolt awake at her touch like the first time she did it. Her soft ministrations, the soothing circular movements of her fingertips on his scalp, lulled him right back to sleep. Oftentimes, his mind would wander and he would dream of lying next to Elsa with his head over her heart and her fingers in her hair, and he would wake the following morning with her hand still resting on the back of his neck.</p><p>Four days after the Winter Fest came the eve of Elsa’s birthday. Anna wanted to switch shifts with him as soon as Elsa went to sleep so that she could surprise her at midnight. Jack had to admit that he was rather reluctant to give up his watch, but he felt that he owed it to Anna anyway. It was the least he could do for all the favors she did for him.</p><p>Jack had risen from his bed later than he had meant to; he blamed his second dose for that. He certainly was <em>not </em>delaying the inevitable by sleeping in.</p><p>Yesterday, Bunnymund had found him a suitable replacement box for his gift. It wasn’t quite as fancy as the first—just a plain, unassuming black box that was slightly too big for his present. He was worried that it might appear more deceptive that it was; he did not want Elsa to expect too much from it, for he would never be able to stomach a look of disappointment from her if she did not find his gift to her liking. His nervousness flared whenever the blasted box caught his eye, and he debated using the first albeit slightly damaged one as he re-tied his cravat for the third time.</p><p>Lunch was quick and uneventful. He assumed that the royal family had taken their leave to dine with Elsa in her room, so he was left with Bunnymund alone in the dining hall. “A letter from St. North and Toothiana came in today,” the older man briefly mentioned, handing him the sealed notes. Jack took it from him and opened it, but his brain could not comprehend the sharp, stoic lines of St. North’s handwriting and the swirling, elegant loops of Toothiana’s. His knee bounced up and down restlessly until Bunnymund rolled his eyes and snatched the letters from him to read on his own. “A little fidgety today, are we?” he deadpanned, peering down at Jack through the pair of egg-shaped spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose before continuing to read through St. North’s missive.</p><p>Jack frowned. “I’m just anxious that she might not like my gift.” He’d always been afraid of disappointing anyone, but even to his own ears, he sounded much like a frightened child. He cleared his throat and straightened up on his seat. </p><p>“St. North reports nothing out of the ordinary, but he did take the initiative to heighten security around the keep and in the village. It appears that he has also written to the other Northern lords about this as well,” Bunnymund said, completely ignoring his sentiment. “Toothiana wishes a fast recovery for both you and the crown princess. And I am sure that if they were here, they would tell you that it matters not what the gift looks like, for it is the thought and intention behind it that counts.”</p><p>“But, as you can see, they are <em>not </em>here, old man,” Jack grumbled. “Any original words of advice?”</p><p>“Just get it over with.”</p><p>
  <em>“Fantastic.” </em>
</p><p>After shovelling the rest of his food through his mouth, Jack left Bunnymund at the table with the letters to fetch the box he left on his bedside table. Taking a quick detour to the bathroom, he took a couple of steadying breaths as he smoothed his hair and clothes in front of the mirror. He did not expect to be as jittery as he was. How hard could delivering a gift be? Speaking of, should he just leave it at the door? Should he stay while Elsa opened it?</p><p>“I’m such a fool,” he sighed, leaning down and splashing his face with cold water. The weather outside was fair enough, but the temperature had yet to stop plummeting, and a feeling in his gut alluded to a possible snowstorm. While they were indeed in the depths of winter, his entire ensemble felt like a cocoon that suffocated him with his own body heat, cold sweat dripping down his back. Burying his face into his towel and exhaling loudly into it, he left his room and began the long trek to Elsa’s door.</p><p>Said trek was a winding path that moved in all sorts of ways, varying with the strength of his resolve. He was well aware that he was overthinking, which was highly unusual of him. Still, the hopeful side of him forced him to feel the excitement that one feels when giving gifts.</p><p>The door was open halfway when he finally reached her room, and he heard a couple of voices coming from within. “It’s neutral ground. I do not want to cause an unnecessary rise in tension if we’re to meet at the border instead.”</p><p>“But it’s <em>Weselton, </em>Papa,” he heard Elsa plead. “I can excuse the land but its host? After that—that <em>weasel</em> exploited our trade?”</p><p>“I know darling, but we must give the Southern monarch the benefit of the doubt. Our spies reported similar rebel attacks happening in the South, and from one king to another, I must commend his confidence for taking the initiative in this potential alliance.”</p><p>"Your father and I still have to negotiate a <em>few</em> terms," Queen Iduna added, though Jack noticed a subtle wariness to her tone. "What better way to show our trustworthiness than to handle the situation in person?"</p><p>There was silence for a moment; Jack thought that he’d been caught eavesdropping for sure until Elsa muttered, “Do you have to go?”</p><p>He could almost see the King’s expression soften, with his wife at his side and smiling reassuringly. “You’ll be fine, Elsa.”</p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p>Three quick short raps at her door stopped her from breaking down in defiant tears in front of her parents. Elsa had yet to understand the logic behind their decision, but she did not want to think about that right now. It was her birthday for God’s sake. This was the kind of news that she would rather not hear at the moment, not when they could be celebrating that they were all safe and together for this day after everything that happened.</p><p>She looked past her mother’s shoulder and saw Jack’s head poke through the opening at the door. She felt a surge of gratitude pooling in her chest; he saved her, yet again. “Pardon the intrusion, Your Majesties,” he said in an adorably shy tone, “I was hoping for a moment alone with the birthday girl.”</p><p>“Of course, my boy,” her father said, standing up from the right side of her bed. Her mother leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on the top of her head whilst patting her cheek affectionately before joining her father. Jack opened the door wider to allow them to pass, shutting it softly behind them. “I was afraid you might be asleep at this time,” he began, hands casually clasped behind his back as he walked over to her bedside.</p><p>“I <em>was </em>supposed to be resting,” Elsa replied with a sheepish grin, “I practically had to twist Pabbie’s arm to reduce my medication, just for today. I wanted to be awake, you see.”</p><p>What she did not tell him was that she now had a mild headache following her prior conversation with her parents, and that she was as present in the moment as her body allowed her. Her brain felt fuzzy, and with the way she leaned against this comfortable mountain of pillows, she was sure to doze off the minute she let her guard down. She was pretty sure that she still looked quite fatigued, from the dryness of her lips and the dark circles under her eyes. She had specifically told Anna to help her dress in her magenta nightgown that it might bring back a little more color to her face. Jack sat on the bed right next to her and reached for her hand. “Well, I am thankful to see that you look much better, snowflake.”</p><p>She smiled—she did not react to his pet name for her this time, instead giving his hand a little squeeze as heat flooded her cheeks. It seemed to put him at ease to some extent, an awkward grin playing on his lips. However, he looked like he was about to get sick. It was quite unusual for him to be this flustered, and Elsa started to worry for him when she felt his fingers twitching.</p><p>Before she could ask him if he was alright, he turned her palm over and nervously brought his other hand around from his back, placing a small, black box in it. “Forgive me,” he muttered, “I had to change the wrappings at the last minute. I had it with me during the Winter Fest, and the box that I originally had made was ruined.”</p><p>Her mouth dropped to form a small circular shape, her wide eyes flitting from his gift to his face and back again. Childlike glee made her heart pound faster against her sternum at the promise of presents, and she could not help but feel her face break into a smile in excitement. She could feel him watching her expectantly, could see the tension in the set of his shoulders as he studied her expression. Elsa started pushing herself up to a more upright position—she fought hard not to wince when she had to twist a bit, but Jack was eyeing her so closely that he surely caught her grimace in pain. “Allow me,” he said, gently helping her lean forward and rearranging the pillows behind her so that she could still rest against them comfortably. As he did the latter, she caught a glimpse of the throbbing pulse at the side of his neck and a single bead of sweat disappearing past his shirt collar.</p><p>He sat back on the edge of her bed as she brought the box to her lap and unlaced the silk ribbon to open it. Jack turned away right as she removed the lid.</p><p>Elsa gasped at the treasure hidden inside—it was a necklace made of the purest silver with a delicate chain, quite unlike any jewelry that she had seen before. The beautifully engraved metal clasp that connected the pendant to the chain was nestled in a cluster of round diamonds with a rare, pale blue tint that were gradually varying from largest to smallest, giving the illusion that the diamonds morphed seamlessly into the chain. She glossed over the diamonds, the chain and the clasp with her fingertips until they finally reached the pendant. It was small enough to fit snugly in the center of her palm—it was shaped like a snowflake with simple swirling embellishments on each limb, the tips of which were encrusted with more bluish gemstones.</p><p>“Do you like it?” asked Jack, his voice so small and timid that she almost did not hear him speak. It took her a few moments to find the words to describe how awed she was at his present. “It’s beautiful,” she answered breathlessly, though in hindsight her statement felt far too simple for the unique craftsmanship of the gift she beheld.</p><p>She looked up to discover that Jack’s entire demeanor had changed, his squared shoulders slumping in relief as hints of a humble little smile played on his lips. “I’m glad you like it. St. North would tell you how much of a pain I was to tutor in such fine metal work, if he were here.”</p><p>Elsa shot him a surprised glance, her brows raised. “You… you made this… for me?”</p><p>Jack did not answer, at least not directly—his beautiful blue eyes shone as bright as the diamonds in her hand, and the red flush on his checks only deepened in color. He bit his lip as if to keep his grin from widening further, and he shrugged innocently. “Can you…?” she urged subtly, tilting her head to one side to gather the rest of her hair over her shoulder.</p><p>“Of course.” Jack shifted closer to her on the bed, lifting the necklace out of the box and bringing it up to her neck. She shivered at the cool silver, goosebumps rising on her skin all the way down to her arm when she felt Jack’s fingers graze the nape of her neck.</p><p>He sat back on the bed to admire his handiwork as Elsa pulled her hair through the chain. The snowflake pendant rested on the exposed skin of her sternum, right above her thunderously beating heart. “It looks lovely on you,” Jack remarked.</p><p>The cold silver seemed to balance how hot she suddenly felt under the his gaze. “It’s wonderful, Jack,” she said, reaching for the pendant and smiling at him. “I love it. Thank you.”</p><p>Jack’s face turned solemn, eyes downcast as he reached for her free hand. She let him envelop her fingers with his own, his thumb gently rubbing small circles on the delicate skin above the back of her wrist. “Consider it a peace offering, in addition to being a birthday present,” he said quietly, eyes never leaving their entwined hands. “For putting you in harm’s way, and for everything I’ve done to hurt you in the past. Forgive me.”</p><p>Elsa was speechless. What was she to say? With his head bowed low before her, her hand in both of his, he looked every bit the penitent sinner, asking for absolution. One word from her could break him, should she choose to. Her mouth ran dry in that knowledge. She knew that she was not without fault here; she had a fair share of forgiveness to ask from him as well. But, maybe, there was a way to fix all of that—</p><p>“On the vanity,” she said. Jack looked up at her, dumbfounded. “There’s a wooden box there.”</p><p>It took him a while to realize that she was asking him to get it for her. Her bed creaked as he stood up to fetch the item that she requested—the gift she had Ombric make for him. It felt like such a long time ago.</p><p>“I meant to give this to you earlier,” she started, “but after everything that happened between us, I was unsure if I still should. But now, I realize not much has changed since then, even if it does feel that way.”</p><p>Jack approached her bedside again, this time with the puzzle box in hand. He was inspecting it from every angle as he walked, blue eyes alight as they raked over the swirling silver design. “What is it?” he asked in childlike wonder.</p><p>“Well, Ombric mentioned that you liked puzzles,” Elsa grinned weakly, fingers fiddling nervously with the ends of her hair. “If you’re as good as he said you were, you’d have it open by Christmas.”</p><p>Jack paused thoughtfully, white silken hair swaying as he tilted his head. “And <em>when </em>I open it,” he asked, brow raised confidently to further emphasize the word and making her chuckle, “then... you’ll forgive me?”</p><p>“Rest assured, my Lord Frost. I’ll have already forgiven you by then,” she answered. Then, her voice dropping to a soft, almost whisper, “And, perhaps, you’ll be able to forgive me, too.”</p>
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